Baby Daddy
by Vast Difference
Summary: Cuddy has been feeling positively lousy for the past week, and House is making her life anything but easy as usual. It must be that flu that's going around... or could it be something else? Huddy all the way, guys! Chapter 21 up now. R&R, please!
1. Chapter 1

Lisa Cuddy awoke with a start. At first she wasn't sure what had woken her, but soon enough a grudgingly familiar wave of nausea sent her running to the bathroom for the second time that night. "How long is this going to go on?!" she said to herself in between spurts of vomiting. When she finally found the strength to pull herself upright and wash her hands, Cuddy took a look at herself in the mirror. "Girl, you look like hell!" she declared out loud. And although she had not thought her comment able to be heard outside the bathroom, an urgent wail soon emanated from Rachel's room. "Wonderful!" Cuddy said sarcastically. "Just what I need right now."

As a rule, Cuddy didn't mind these late night stretches awake with Rachel. She and baby Rachel had recently found a moment to bond when Cuddy desperately needed Rachel's cooperation to be quiet, and ever since then Cuddy would talk to Rachel in these wee hours of the morning about everything from work at the hospital to telling Rachel fairy tales and stories. Cuddy still couldn't get over the sense of wonderment she experienced as Rachel looked expectantly yet acceptingly into her eyes while she lulled her back to sleep; it was nice to have someone appreciate you just for being there, and only to expect things that you could successfully provide.

On this particular night, however, Cuddy, in her nauseated state, would have welcomed a full night's sleep in the comfort of her own bed without Rachel's interruption. In spite of this feeling, Cuddy slowly made her way into Rachel's room and picked up her crying daughter. Patting the bottom of her diaper, Cuddy realized that Rachel was most definitely in need of a change and proceeded to replace the soggy mess with a clean diaper. The sight of the diaper's contents did nothing to ease Cuddy's perpetual week-long nausea, and it was all she could do to briefly rock Rachel in the rocking chair until she fell asleep again.

Carefully placing Rachel back in her crib, Cuddy kissed her finger, deposited the kiss on Rachel's cheek, and then crept out of the room as quietly as she could and went back to her own. Cuddy gingerly lay back down in her bed and prayed that this flu she had been fighting would miraculously disappear by morning, or that The Ass would act like a human being for once and not make her life a living hell at Princeton-Plainsboro. Both were long shots, and unfortunately, Cuddy wouldn't be so lucky as to be relieved from the burden of either prospect.


	2. Chapter 2

If it was possible, Cuddy was feeling worse by the middle of the next morning than she had the night before. The six nights of poor sleep were starting to catch up with her energy level, and to top it all off she had only been at work for an hour and had already puked twice. When she was in the middle of her second trip to the bathroom, she heard someone knock on her office door and let themselves in.

"Who is it?" Cuddy asked weakly.

"It's me," said Wilson, and noticing her tone added, "Are you ok in there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Be out in a minute," she added, trying to pull herself together. Carefully making her way back into the office, Cuddy took a few deep breaths and seated herself comfortably in her desk chair. "What's up, James?" she asked, trying much too hard to sound nonchalant.

"You don't sound 'fine' to me, Lisa. In fact, you haven't seemed fine all week… what's going on with you?" Wilson wondered, genuinely concerned.

"Oh, I'm just fighting some kind of a bug, I guess," she answered unconvincingly.

"Make sure you're re-hydrating yourself from that vomiting, when you're able to. Dehydration can spiral out of control pretty fast if you don't stay on top of it…" Wilson began, but Cuddy interrupted him.

"James, this may come as a surprise, but I went to medical school, too," she said snidely, so much so that Wilson would have thought she was talking to Gregory House.

Wilson smiled, gestured a "surrender," and said, "Ok, ok, but I would have considered myself a pretty poor friend if I didn't try to look out for you a little. I know you can take care of yourself… but I also know taking care of an infant by yourself can take its toll."

Cuddy, smiling genuinely for the first time that day, said "Thank you, James. Now, really what did you need?"

"Oh, I finished the oncology budget for next quarter. You told me to have it finished by today," Wilson said as he placed the file on Cuddy's desk.

Cuddy accepted it gratefully. "Thanks, it doesn't surprise me one bit that you're the first department head to have yours ready… and since I asked for it to be ready at the end of this week, I'm sure that means I'll have diagnostics' astronomical budget on my desk sometime before…"

"…Easter," Wilson interjected, without missing a beat.

Cuddy laughed, but it didn't sit too well with her sensitive digestive state, and almost immediately she was making run number three for the bathroom attached to her office.

"Cuddy," Wilson called out, "I'm going back upstairs, but seriously, if that doesn't stop in the next hour or so, go down to the ER and have Cameron check you out. And push the fluids!" he added emphatically as he closed the door behind him.

"That's a laugh," Cuddy thought to herself. "We give that simple bit of advice to patients every day… but how do you push fluids when everything you put in your mouth refuses to be digested?" She thought another moment as she washed her hands for the umpteenth time that day and answered her own question. "I.V. fluids… but let's hope I'm not to that point yet." She walked back to her desk, hoping to finally accomplish some work before she would inevitably be interrupted by her favorite least-favorite employee.

Lunchtime was fast approaching, but Cuddy was sure she wasn't anywhere near ready to attempt food. She found a vending machine near the lobby with Gatorade, for which she was very thankful, because the very thought of entering the olfactory offensiveness of the hospital cafeteria made Cuddy picture herself praying to the porcelain god yet again. So, focusing on hydration, she worked through the lunch hour compiling all of the departmental budgets that had found their way onto her desk. Just as Cuddy thought her body was starting to recalibrate, she found that House had unceremoniously let himself into her office and was making his way toward her desk.

"Can I help you?" Cuddy asked wearily, not bothering to look up from her work.

"That depends," House retorted, "How much lower can your top go in the next 30 seconds?"

Cuddy looked up, and to House's surprise, she looked far too defeated for so early in the conversation. "House, I'm in no mood. Now seriously, tell me what you want so that you can leave and go irritate someone else."

Well geez, this is no fun, thought House. He decided to play along… for the time being, anyway.

"I came to tell you the budget that's supposed to be finished by today won't be finished until… sometime next week. I have a really cool patient who's bleeding in all kinds of interesting places, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to be incredibly busy until we figure out what's causing it…" he paused, noticed she wasn't even paying attention to him, then went on, "… unless the budget is more important than him bleeding out and his family suing the hospital for bazillions of dollars…"

"Fine House, whatever you need to do," Cuddy said absentmindedly, which was not her usual demeanor at all. House, not accustomed to this lack of attention from her, impatiently put his cane up on to her desk and gave a couple of not-so-gentle raps.

"Hello… me, head of diagnostic medicine, totally disregarding your deadline for the budget… no reproach? No lecture? No…" House would have kept on going, but Cuddy cut through him.

"No House, no reproach, no lecture, no indulgence of your adolescent demand for negative attention. Not today. Go figure out your patient, go play with your toys, go pester Cameron or Wilson or Chase. Do whatever you're gonna do, but go do it somewhere else that isn't my office," and for effect, Cuddy stood and added a plaintive, "Please!"

He didn't like being told to "go to his room," even though he was acting like a child, but House was glad he had finally gotten to Cuddy enough that her eyes flashed at him challengingly and that her face looked like it was beginning to flush.

"Why Cuddy, no need to get your thong in a twist. I'd be more than happy to go down to conference room B and chat up all those potential donors who came for the complimentary luncheon today…" House knew just where to hit, as if Cuddy needed any more issues in the general area of her belt. And she was getting angrier by the second! In fact, she looked out of breath.

"Why… do you… always… have to be… such an…" But before Cuddy could pant out the rest of her admonishment, she was silently slumped over on her desk. Shocked, House made a B-line for the door and yelled for the clinic nurses and a gurney to take Cuddy to the ER. He was trying to get a reaction out of Cuddy, but nothing he was playing at involved her being unconscious.


	3. Chapter 3

****Disclaimer: I should have done this on the 1st chapter, but I forgot! All characters belong to David Shore, Fox, etc. I'm just borrowing for my creative outlet** :-)

*** Thanks for all the reviews!! I love getting feedback :-) I'll try to update every 2 or 3 days. You may get 2 updates on weekends ;-)**

A blur of sounds surrounded Cuddy as she awoke in a haze. Buzzers and beepers, loud voices, and the rushes of fast movements brought her back to consciousness, but confusion set in immediately. Cuddy realized she was laying in a bed, and judging from the cream-colored curtain encircling it and the accompanying noise, she knew that she must be in the ER. No sooner had she raised her head to orient herself then Cameron quickly came through the opening in the curtain.

"Hey, you're up. Good thing, too, House was giving you 5 more minutes to come to or he was going to personally wheel you upstairs for a head CT," Cameron said with an amused smirk as she checked the drip in Cuddy's I.V.

"House was here?" Cuddy asked, still a little hazy as she woke up.

"Yeah, he walked out of here literally about a minute ago when you started waking up. Do you remember what happened?"

"The last thing I can remember is being in my office, yelling at House, and then…" Cuddy thought hard, "… that's it. I must have fainted or something."

"You did. As soon as House got down here and finished barking orders at everyone about what should be done for you, he called Wilson, and Wilson said you'd been sick for the last couple of days. I ran a blood panel, I hope that's ok," Cameron added tentatively.

"Yeah, that's fine," Cuddy said passively. "I think it's just this stupid flu bug, though… it's a wonder Rachel hasn't come down with it yet… oh my God, Rachel! What time is it? How long have I been down here?!" Cuddy demanded, suddenly panicking.

"Relax, you've only been down here for about an hour," Cameron said soothingly while patting Cuddy's arm. "It's only a little after 2, the nanny won't expect you home for at least another couple of hours, anyway. Just try to take it easy for a little while."

"Well, that's a relief, anyway," Cuddy said, starting to calm down a little. "So, did the lab actually show anything or am I just dehydrated from all the vomiting?" A flash of uncertainty crossed Cameron's face as she pulled Cuddy's labs out of the manila folder before she answered.

"Most likely, the dehydration did contribute to the fainting, but it turns out you also have a mild case of anemia," Cameron said slowly, but the look of hesitation on Cameron's face told Cuddy that she wasn't finished. "And… um, Dr. Cuddy, I don't exactly know how to say this, but… did you know you're pregnant?" The look of awkwardness on Cameron's face was no competition for the look of utter shock on Cuddy's. It took her a second before speech was again a possibility.

"Pregnant?" Cuddy parroted in a very small voice. Her thoughts raced faster than her brain could process, until the only possible conclusion smacked her in the face with the force of a rude slap. She leaned back on the bed, closed her eyes, and tried to take a deep breath.

"I take it that you didn't know," Cameron said just as quietly, but she continued. "Judging from your HCG levels, I'd say you're probably anywhere from 8 to 12 weeks along. You should probably follow up in OBGYN soon to pinpoint it."

"_Please _tell me you didn't share this information with anyone else before you came in here…" Cuddy started, sounding absolutely terrified.

"Absolutely not!" Cameron shot back, somewhat hurt. "I would never break confidentiality, especially not concerning someone I view as a friend."

"I'm sorry," Cuddy said, taking her turn to pat Cameron on the arm. "I think I just had some momentary panic thinking about what House would do with the information."

"I hadn't even looked at the labs yet when he left… to tell you the truth, I don't think House wanted you to know that he sat down here with you that whole time you were out."

"He did?" Cuddy was pretty surprised. It had been awhile since House had done anything to show that he cared about her that didn't involve the "adult" equivalent of pulling on her pigtails.

"But of course, you didn't hear anything about that for me," Cameron smirked. Cuddy smiled too, in spite of herself. Although she wasn't entirely sure why.

"Knock, knock," came Wilson's familiar voice from outside of the curtained enclave. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, come join the party, James," Cuddy answered wearily as she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"So what's the verdict? Did the dehydration get the better of you?" he asked her.

"It did," Cameron answered for her, "But I think there's something else she needs to tell you about."

"Cameron, what ever happened to confidentiality?" Cuddy asked, clearly annoyed.

"Confidentiality doesn't count when it's Wilson," Cameron stated obviously. "But I'm going to leave you two to chat while I see if they can work you in upstairs in a little bit."

"Wait," Cuddy caught Cameron before she walked out. "See if Dr. Myron can come down here, I don't want the whole hospital swapping theories about how and why the Dean of Medicine fainted and went right up to OBGYN."

"No problem. I'll be back in a little bit," Cameron said with a smile as she left to make her phone call.

"OBGYN? And why do you need Dr. Myron to come down here to see you?" Wilson asked concernedly.

Cuddy took a deep breath. In her dreams, she always imagined that when she uttered her next words, they would be to a husband or boyfriend who was adoringly returning her starry-eyed gaze. Instead, she was going to say them to her male best friend, who she knew was probably going to be her best support for the time being.

"I'm pregnant," Cuddy said, just as quietly as the first time she had carefully repeated after Cameron. Wilson just stared. He couldn't believe it.

"How?" was the first thing he managed to say, followed by "When? And more importantly, _who_?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure you know the answer to the first question, and as for the second and third, I'm just not ready to talk about that part yet," Cuddy said matter-of-factly.

"Ok…" Wilson started, and while he had no intention of letting Cuddy off the hook so easily about the "who," he decided that now was not the best time to press her. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to let Dr. Myron do an exam so I can find out how far along I am, and then I'm going to drive to a Walgreens on the other side of town where I can't possibly be recognized and get some pre-natal vitamins." Wilson couldn't believe how calm, cool, and collected she seemed.

"I take it that you're going through with the pregnancy, then?" Wilson asked cautiously.

"Well, obviously, James," Cuddy shot back. "I didn't spend almost a year going through I.V.F. just to end up getting pregnant the old-fashioned way and then terminate it, planned or not."

"Sorry, Lisa, that was insensitive of me," Wilson conceded. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Just keep your mouth closed. As far as I'm concerned, you, Cameron, and Myron are the only ones who are going to know until I absolutely have to start telling people."

"And what do you want me to do about House? You know he's going to be all over me and Cameron to find out exactly what's wrong with you, right?"

"Well then, you and Cameron just find a way to make my chart disappear, ok?" Cuddy said clandestinely.

"Dr. Cuddy, are you asking me and one of my esteemed colleagues to falsify hospital records?" Wilson asked, with overdramatic disdain.

"Like you haven't done things twice as illegal to cover House's ass," Cuddy countered.

"Good point!" conceded Wilson.


	4. Chapter 4

*** Thanks for keeping the review coming!! I love it :-)**

Hit by the cold February air, Cuddy had somewhat snapped back to reality as she walked out of the hospital early around 4pm. She would be glad to head home to the comfort of Rachel, some tea, and her own bed after such a trying day, and Cuddy was thankful that Myron had saved her an out-of-the-way trip to Walgreens by presenting her with a gigantic bottle of pre-natal vitamins. Once she was driving, Cuddy tried to take a few deep breaths and allow herself to absorb the events of the last three hours, and in some sense, the last three months, as well.

It turned out that Cameron's estimation of the timing of Cuddy's pregnancy was pretty accurate. Dr. Myron, who Cuddy had known since undergrad, put Cuddy at nine weeks along, giving her an estimated due date of August 20th. Myron had been surprised about Cuddy's pregnancy, to say the least, but she had agreed along with both Cameron and Wilson to keep her condition under wraps until she was ready to start telling people.

At first, Cuddy had mentally and verbally beat herself up for missing all of the signs that now, looking back, should have seemed glaringly obvious, especially to someone with an "M.D." after her name. When Myron asked her, for instance, she realized that she indeed hadn't had a period since early in November.

"How did I miss that?" Cuddy had asked Myron, feeling like a complete idiot.

"Easily," Myron said reassuringly. "Lisa, I've been your doctor for the last 5 years, and even before I.V.F. your periods were never what I would call 'regular.' And when you take those hormones for an extended period of time, they can mess with your cycles even more."

"I guess," Cuddy had agreed half-heartedly. "But the nausea, and the exhaustion…"

"…They can all be explained by stress and being overworked," Myron interjected. "And between taking care of a new baby and running a hospital, I'd say you highly qualify for both of those." Continuing, Myron's next question for her had been on the embarrassing side. "I can assume based on the outcome that the sex was unprotected… do you know who the father is?"

"Of course I know, Angela!" Cuddy had responded, taken aback. "I don't exactly sleep around do, I?"

"No, Lisa, of course not," Myron had said apologetically. "I didn't mean to imply anything…"

"I know you didn't, I'm sorry," Cuddy immediately apologized . "This is just a lot to absorb in such a short time, and I don't feel like I'm handling it very well."

"Don't sell yourself short Lisa, you're doing great," Myron said encouragingly. "Anyone… and I do mean anyone… in your shoes would feel caught off guard."

"Thanks," Cuddy offered sincerely.

"Back to the issue at hand, though," Myron had continued. "I just meant that anytime you've had unprotected sex and you aren't in some kind of a long-term relationship, you should be screened for STD's."

"Actually, I thought of that," Cuddy had told her. "I realized that was a possibility, and I got myself tested when I applied to be a foster parent."

"Well, that's good," Myron had said. "But you didn't think about the chance of pregnancy?" she had added cautiously.

"No," Cuddy had answered quietly. "After all that I.V.F., and nothing? I didn't think getting pregnant in any way, shape, or form was even possible for me anymore."

"Well," Myron had said with a laugh, "I see a lot of women go through a lot of trying, both the natural way and In Vitro. And you know what? Sometimes it just takes some spontaneous passion and good old fashioned romance."

Cuddy had remained silent after Myron's last comment, but she realized that she was right. The conception had most certainly been an act of spontaneity, and in actuality she grudgingly admitted also one of intense, undeniable, unforgettable passion. But "old fashioned romance," she sadly mused, had not fit into the equation in the slightest.

That last point brought Cuddy into her true reality as she pulled into the familiar path of her driveway. She recognized, right then and there, that the most difficult facet of the entire situation was going to be dealing with the issue of the paternity. Attempting to sort it all out, she gingerly lay her head on the steering wheel and closed her eyes.

Cuddy knew beyond a shadow of a doubt who the dad was, that wasn't the issue. The dad himself was the issue. That single point was going to make the next six months of her life hell at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, and it was a lose-lose situation. It was most definitely hell if she kept it a secret, but it was a familiar kind of hell that was in her office harassing her every day anyway, so that scenario might not deviate all that much from the current state of the union.

The prospect of outing the dad, on the other hand, held the potential to drag Cuddy into the most unimaginable emotional hell of her life. She pondered these two facts as she carefully got out of her car, but the blaringly pessimistic side of Cuddy's brain refused to acknowledge that telling the father could also turn out to be one of the most complicated, wonderful things that could ever happen to anyone.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

After such an eventful Thursday, both Myron and Wilson had positively insisted that Cuddy take Friday and the rest of the weekend completely off and just focus on taking care of herself. Cameron had even offered to take Rachel on Saturday afternoon and for awhile on Sunday when the nanny had her time off. Cuddy knew that she wasn't in for an easy ride on this hurricane of an adventure, but at least she had good friends that looked out for her best interest and her children's.

Children's. Plural. It would take some time to get used to that, and truly in some ways Cuddy was still adjusting to one children. She resolved to do her best, though, and continued to let the events of the last 24 hours settle in her consciousness on that Friday as she enjoyed some of her first actual breakfast in almost a week.

In addition to the gigantic bottle of pre-natal vitamins, Myron had also given Cuddy some Zofran for her nausea. So, while the nanny kept Rachel entertained in the living room, Cuddy was enjoying some orange juice and dry toast in the kitchen while reading the morning paper.

She noticed a large Bloomingdale's ad for a sale that weekend as she was skimming through the world news section of the "Times," and Cuddy figured that would be the perfect opportunity for adding a few more bulky sweaters and shirts to her wardrobe. Provided she felt well enough to go shopping in New York on Saturday, that was. Cuddy figured the sooner she started transitioning her clothes, the less noticeable the shift in her dress would seem to others. Oh, let's face it, she thought to herself. You're really only worried about House.

Oddly enough, until this point House hadn't entered Cuddy's thoughts that morning nearly as much as she would have expected him to. As much as the prospect of the entire hospital knowing about her "delicate state" embarrassed her to some degree, all the lengths she pondered going to in order to keep her secret under wraps came down to keeping said secret from Gregory House.

As anyone who knew him could attest, the problem with House and trying to keep any kind of secret from him was his tremendous abilities of observation, intuition, and deduction. Concealing something of this magnitude from him, therefore, was at best a double edged sword; the clothes, for example.

Cuddy knew that if she started dressing in bulky sweaters and more flowing skirts, House would wonder why, and wonder loudly enough for all to hear and over-hear. In the worst case scenario, he might actually resort to harassing her about being pregnant like he did when she was going through I.V.F.

If she kept to her current and much tighter attire, however, House would most certainly notice her expanding waste-line and either malign her weight gain, or notice the particular area of the weight gain, which would leave Cuddy right back where she started. Damn him, she thought, quite exasperated. Always putting me in a lose-lose situation. For Cuddy, the most explicit of those lose-lose situations with House was exactly what had landed her in her current physical state in the first place.

During that past November, she had felt like she was really starting to lose her sanity in the ever-present "Tom & Jerry"-like game that she and House were always playing. Or maybe at that point, it was turning out to be a little more like Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara. They would get closer, and then pull apart. They would lock horns increasingly at every turn only to end up locking into even more intensely heated looks and embraces.

All throughout this tango of wits and hearts that had gone on between them for so long, there had only ever been two possible outcomes; either kill each other, or sleep together. And rather unfortunately, Cuddy was beginning to think, they had fallen all over each other into the latter.

Finally, her thoughts had stumbled their way to that night. She knew that memory was going to come stomping back at some point, but Cuddy wasn't going to relive it at that particular moment. She didn't feel ready to remember it just then, and she certainly didn't want to admit to herself that she wanted to remember it at all.

Hearing Rachel fuss from the living room, Cuddy's mind was brought back to the present. As she got up to check on her baby girl, part of Cuddy wondered what kind of gossip was already circulating the hospital regarding her "fainting spell" by this hour of the morning, but she tried not to focus on it too much. Wilson had promised to call her during lunch to report all the goings on, including whatever stunt House was currently trying to pull.


	5. Chapter 5

*** Sorry for the delayed update!! I was suffering from some writers block concerning something coming up in a few chapters, but I think I'm past it. So here you go! Thanks for reading :-)  
**

Quite unfortunately for Cuddy, House had solved the mystery of his profusely bleeding patient by mid-morning on Friday, leaving him lots of free time in the remainder of the day to pester his colleagues for information on her condition. If Cameron or Wilson had previously thought Cuddy presumptuous or a little narcissistic for assuming that House would waste no time in trying to unravel her secret, they both quickly realized their error. For all of the past meddling that he had done in Cuddy's personal life, whether it had been her dating, her rounds of I.V.F., or her adoption, it was clear that House had no use for boundaries when it came to Lisa Cuddy.

This lack of boundaries reared its ugly head around 10:30am in Wilson's office while he was in the middle of a consult with a patient. Without knocking, House walked right into the office and sat down on the couch.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," House said quite insincerely as he kicked his feet up on the coffee table and folded his hands behind his head.

"Do you _mind_?" Wilson asked, clearly exasperated. The patient, a heavy-set gray haired man with glasses, sheepishly turned his head around to look at House and suddenly felt very out of place.

"Oh, don't look so worried," House said to the patient dismissively. "Even if Dr. Wilson's giving you a diagnosis of death, he'll do it so sweetly that you'll be sure he just gave you free trip to Disneyland by the time he's done."

Wilson cringed, then sighed. He realized he was beat, and that if he ever wanted this poor melanoma patient to make it through his next biopsy, he better just end the appointment.

"I apologize for the interruption, Mr. Bailey," Wilson said, standing up. "I think we're pretty much done for today anyway… just make sure you see the nurse on the way out for your pre-surgery instructions."

"Thanks very much, Dr. Wilson," Mr. Bailey said as he stood, gratefully shaking Wilson's hand. Mr. Bailey stopped to look at House as he left, and said "You know, you should really knock before you come into someone's office."

"Oh, my humblest apologies," House pseudo-groveled in an English accent, while performing a dramatic genuflect from his position on the couch.

"Is he another patient?" Mr. Bailey asked Wilson quietly as he walked out the door, but not so quietly that he wasn't heard by House.

"He's going to be very soon if he doesn't watch himself," Wilson answered snidely, and House chuckled a little in spite of himself.

"Now, you have my undivided attention, your highness," Wilson announced to House as he closed the door sat back down at his desk. "I have to be down in the Ped.'s ward to see a patient in 20 minutes, so whatever it is you want, make it snappy."

"Where's Cuddy?" House asked almost too casually, popping open his vicodin bottle and dry-swallowing a couple of pills.

"She's at home resting," Wilson offered, feigning nonchalance as inadequately as House.

"Why does she need a day off?" House pushed, searching Wilson's face for signs of hesitation. "Is she really sick enough to need a day off, or did she pass it along to the rugrat?"

"It was a pretty severe case of gastroenteritis, House, and she was dehydrated enough to need I.V. fluids for a couple of hours," Wilson answered, hoping that his lie wasn't showing on his face.

"You said that she'd been sick for pretty much the whole week, though," House countered. "Since when does gastroenteritis last for that long?"

"It doesn't, usually… but you know how those viruses are," Wilson said vaguely, putting some books away on his bookshelf. "Always mutating. And they get better when you rest, and like Cuddy ever gets enough rest between taking care of Rachel and running this place and babysitting _you._"

"Oh, so now her tummy bug is my fault. How will I ever live with myself!" House said sarcastically as he grasped his heart and looked toward the ceiling. "Maybe I should make a house call so I can bring her some saltines and Jell-O."

"No!" Wilson said much too loudly as he turned around to face House again. "I mean, just leave the poor woman in peace to recuperate. I'm sure her nanny can run to the store for her if she needs anything."

"Huh," House said thoughtfully, cocking his head to one side. "If I didn't know better, Jimmy, I'd think you were really trying to keep me away from Cuddy right now."

"I am really trying to keep you away from Cuddy right now," Wilson retorted automatically. "She needs to de-stress so she can get better. And even if you mean well, which I seriously doubt, you cause her stress. So give her some space, ok?"

House thought for a moment. His instincts told him that Wilson was indeed trying to look out for their boss, but that he was withholding a crucial piece of the never-ending puzzle that was Cuddy. House decided, though, that he would get further in his quest for the pieces to said puzzle if Wilson thought his answers had satisfied him.

"You got it," House answered curtly as he got up off of the couch. "I guess I can go three whole days without Little Miss Sunshine harassing me about clinic duty."

"You going to lunch soon?" Wilson asked, attempting to change the subject.

"Yeah," House said as he walked toward the door. "I'll see ya 'round the watering hole."

House, however, had no intention of heading down to the cafeteria in the immediate future. He still had a few tricks up his sleeve. While he hoped that Cameron was in the mood for a friendly and revealing chat with her former boss, he decided to play the safer route first and track down a few of the student nurses who had been working in the ER when Cuddy came down with the "flu."


	6. Chapter 6

*** I think I'm officially past my writers block! I'm singing in a concert this afternoon, but I plan on writing lots after I get home tonight as long as I'm not too tired. Also, is it just me, or do some of you get ideas for your stories totally out of order?! It's so frustrating!! Keep reviewing, I love it :-)  
**

"Ouch!" said a little girl of about nine as Cameron was stitching up her knee.

"Sorry, I'm trying to be as gentle as I can," Cameron said to the girl regretfully. "But it's going to hurt some."

"I see you've resorted to torturing midgets," House interrupted as he sat down on a rolling stool and obnoxiously wheeled himself over to the little girl's bed.

"I'm not a midget!" the girl shot back. "And you're one to talk about people being short… you have to walk with a cane!" she said, noticing House's limp.

"Don't they teach you to be nice to handicapped people at your school, little girl?" House said, annoyed.

"Yes, but the grown-ups at my school set a good example by not calling us midgets," the girl retorted, defiantly folding her arms across her chest.

"10 points to you for a halfway decent comeback, kid," House conceded, pulling an orange lollipop out of the pocket of his blazer and tossing it to her. Cameron laughed at the exchange and decided put in her own two cents.

"Oh but see, Dr. House isn't really a grown-up, Hannah" Cameron instructed her. "He may look like a grown-up, but when he tries talking to people he usually sounds a lot more like boys your age." Her comment made Hannah giggle, and House stuck his tongue out at Cameron. "So what did you really come down here for, House? Do you need an immunology consult?" she asked, almost afraid to hear his answer.

"I was just wondering how Cuddy was doing," House said casually, taking another lollipop, red this time, out of his blazer pocket and sticking it into his mouth.

"She's going to be fine," Cameron stated, trying her best to look uninterested as she continued with Hannah's stitches. "Just your run of the mill gastroenteritis,"

"Really," House said with an air of amusement. "That's not what student nurse Brittany said," he continued, taking a very exaggerated suck on his lollipop and staring intently at Cameron. "_She_ said that Dr. Myron from OBGYN came down here to see Cuddy."

Cameron stopped dead in her tracks for only a split second, but it was a split second that House definitely noticed before Cameron continued with her stitching.

"Cuddy and Myron are friends… she heard Cuddy was down here and wanted to make sure everything was ok," Cameron offered confidently.

"They aren't _that _good of friends," House disputed, continuing to keep a close eye on Cameron's facial expressions. "They went through med. school together. So did Wilson and Barry from urology, but that doesn't make them automatic bosom buddies, does it?"

"Ew, what's a bosom buddy?" Hannah asked, looking just one step shy of being horrified by the crazy adult conversation taking place before her naïve eyes and ears.

"It's just an expression, Hannah," Cameron told her good naturedly. "It's another way of saying best friends. And actually, you're all done… you did a _great _job!" Cameron praised, offering a high five which Hannah gladly reciprocated.

"Thanks, Dr. Cameron," Hannah said appreciatively as she carefully got down off of the bed. "And thanks for the sucker Dr. House… and I'm sorry I was a little mean about your leg."

House smiled a little in spite of himself. He never would have admitted it out loud, but he got a kick out of smart-ass kids like this one.

"It's ok, kid… I'm sorry that I was mean about you being a midget."

Hannah rolled her eyes at House as she herself limped over to her dad in the waiting area. House didn't quite know what to make of the dad not sitting with the kid while she was getting her stitches. Not that he'd ever been in the position, but he was pretty sure if he had a kid that needed stitches, he would stay with them, or at least make sure the mother stayed with them. House quickly pushed the thought to the back of his head as easily as it had come, not wanting to encourage it. It was moments like these, rare though existing, that would baffle almost everyone who knew Gregory House, brilliant butt-head of an M.D., were they to be said out loud.

"House," Cameron said, snapping in his face to get his attention again. "I've got to meet Chase down in the cafeteria for lunch. I'll see you around."

"You never answered my question about Cuddy," he reminded her as she began to walk away.

"I've said all I'm going to say," Cameron said, continuing to walk away. "Unlike blabber-mouth student nurse Brittany, Cuddy was actually my patient, so I do owe her the courtesy of confidentiality."

"Oh, confidentiality-schmonfidentiality!" House pouted exaggeratedly.

In spite of Cameron's unwillingness to spill the beans, student nurse Brittany's choice piece of information was shaping up nicely for House's Puzzle of Cuddy. And his suspicions that her condition was something beyond "the flu" were only further fueled by Wilson and Cameron's attempts to keep him at bay.

House could tell by their unconcerned demeanors, albeit somewhat forced, that nothing was seriously wrong with Cuddy. If it wasn't serious, and no one would tell him what the hell was going on, that had to mean it was something really interesting. And House had a instinctive feeling that the really interesting part had something to do with Dr. Myron.


	7. Chapter 7

**** Thanks for continuing to review!! It really motivates me to write :-) Also, is there some kind of procedure to follow if you're upset about someone blatantly copying text from your story and putting it in their own? I mean, I know there isn't exactly a law against it, but I know that I don't appreciate someone copying my words and acting like what they wrote is theirs. Which reminds me, another periodic disclaimer! I own nothing, I am borrowing from David Shore & Company!  
**

**P.S.- Who else totally wants to punch Lucas in the face, and thinks that Cuddy needs a serious wake-up call? And how adorable was House last night?? All of it made me want to cry! Just my two cents on 6x7...**

Cuddy walked into work the following Monday morning feeling physically better than she had in weeks. Thanks to the magic of Zofran, she was starting to eat and sleep more like a normal person again, and therefore her energy level had improved. She had barely laid her purse and keys down on the desk in her office when the phone rang.

"Dr. Cuddy," she answered in a professional tone.

"Hey, it's me," Wilson's voice responded from the other end. "I'm glad you're here… we need to talk. Can I come down to your office?"

"Sure, I just walked in… hurry up and come down before everyone figures out I'm back and starts piling me with work," Cuddy said hurriedly.

"Be right down."

While she waited for Wilson, Cuddy rifled through all of the memos and files that had found their way to her inbox when she had been gone on Friday. Three of the memos close to the top had to do with complaints made by disgruntled clinic patients who had been recently treated by House. Cuddy shook her head as she put those particular papers aside until she would have a chance to talk to the legal department. As she was getting back to the rest of the papers, Wilson came right through her doors without knocking and sat down in one of the chairs opposite hers.

"You may have a problem on your hands," Wilson said matter-of-factly, wasting no time in getting to the point. "House has been turning the hospital upside down since Friday trying to find out what's wrong with you."

"When I talked to you on Friday you said he seemed pretty convinced about the gastroenteritis," Cuddy responded, a frown spreading across her face.

"Well, that was around lunch, and I didn't see him for the rest of the day. I didn't hear about anything else until I came in this morning," Wilson continued, the worried look on Cuddy's face only worsening the more he spoke. "Cameron came and found me first thing and said House tracked her down on Friday afternoon, and of course she said nothing, but one of the loose-lipped student nurses in the ER told him about Myron coming down there to see you."

Cuddy groaned as she lay her head down on her desk. She should have known that something like this was bound to happen. Outside of a junior high school cafeteria, the only place more gossip-laden seemed to be their hospital.

"Well, I'll just say she's a concerned friend," Cuddy said simply, sitting back up and resting her chin on the palms of her propped-up hands.

"No good," Wilson countered. "Cameron already went that route, and I guess House wasn't buying." He hesitated for a second, and then continued, "Lisa, maybe you should just get it over with and tell him and everybody else that you're pregnant. I know that's not how you wanted to handle it, but everyone sees and hears everything around this place, and coming clean about it might just make your life easier in the end."

Cuddy thought for a minute about Wilson's take on the situation. The guy did have a point. Outside of actual patient information, nothing was sacred at Princeton-Plainsborough. While Cuddy didn't want to share her news with anyone yet, her main issue with outing her secret was that the outing of the father probably wouldn't fall far behind. And that, Cuddy realized, was something she was not yet ready to do.

"I just can't do it right now, James," Cuddy finally uttered very quietly. "I don't want to say anything until I absolutely have to, because I'm just not mentally prepared for all of the endless questions about the father."

Wilson had been waiting for just such an opportunity to get some more information from Cuddy on that very subject, so he seized it now that she had brought it up.

"You haven't even told _me_ about that part yet, so I guess that makes sense," he began cautiously.

"I haven't told anyone, so don't feel too bad about it, James," Cuddy answered sardonically, turning her chair so that her back was to him. "I guess I'm not a big fan of advertising the fact that I got knocked up from a one-night stand."

"Hey, I'm sorry… I didn't meant to push you, Lisa," Wilson apologized sincerely. "I can't even begin to understand what must be going through your head right now."

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," Cuddy sighed warily, turning her chair back around. "But you need to give me some space on this. If I decide I want to talk about it, I'll be sure to let you know."

"Even if you don't talk to me, I wish you would talk to someone," Wilson advised, genuinely concerned. "Even if you drive all the way to New York and find yourself a shrink that's never heard of you, it might give you the tools to feel more comfortable about the situation."

Cuddy sighed heavily. Wilson meant well, but she had a feeling that all the therapy in the world couldn't help her cope with the fact that House was the father of her child.

"I'll think about it," she said, assuming a more professional tone. "Now I really have to get back to work," Cuddy added, hoping that Wilson would take the hint and go back to his own office.

"Ok, but while you're doing your work you might want to think up an explanation for Myron coming to see you in the ER," Wilson warned as he got up and walked toward the door. "When House finally decides to grace the hospital with his presence today, I have a feeling he'll be finding a reason to come and visit you."

As Wilson made his way back to his office, he couldn't get Cuddy's aversion to discussing the baby's father out of his head. Cuddy hadn't been in any kind of relationship to speak of in nearly a year, so he had figured as much that the pregnancy had resulted from a one-time situation. It made sense that she would be a little embarrassed, but Cuddy seemed almost to the point of compulsion that it be kept a secret. Especially from House. Wilson had a busy day ahead of him, though, and decided to put his thoughts on the subject on the back burner for the time being.


	8. Chapter 8

*** Ok, this is kind of a longer chapter, but it may have to last awhile. I probably won't be updating again until Sunday-ish. Enjoy, and review please :-)  
**

After Wilson left, Cuddy positively resolved that she would get some real work done before House's eventual descent upon her office. After prioritizing all of the work she had to do, Cuddy realized that finding House a new case sat quite high on the list. If she could keep House busy with medicine, it would buy her some time to stave off his inevitable dissection of her physical condition and possibly exert some damage control.

Cuddy had her assistant contact Cameron in the ER, and luckily for Cuddy there was a hallucinating priest that seemed to fit the bill for House's new patient. That fact combined with some other quick-witted scheming on Cuddy's part as she sorted through the files on her desk made her feel almost prepared for House to gate crash her office.

She didn't have long to wait, either. About fifteen minutes later, at 11:00 on the nose, Cuddy heard the standard commotion that heralded House barging his way through the business of the clinic to get to her doors. As usual, he skipped the knocking and let himself in.

"Good morning, sunshine!" House said far too brightly as he made his way up to her desk.

"Good morning," Cuddy smiled back quite insincerely as she shifted her glance from her work and up to House. It was the first time her eyes had met his since she knew she was carrying his child, and the sensation caught Cuddy off guard. Not only did she feel the electricity that they often exchanged during eye contact, but she now felt even more vulnerable to House's predictably penetrating stare. Instinctively, he seemed to sense the uneasiness in her eyes and decided to use it to his advantage.

"Feeling a bit queasy this morning, are we?" House asked as he took a seat in one of the chairs across from Cuddy's desk.

"No, not one bit," Cuddy answered easily as she moved her eyes back to the safety of the files in front of her.

"That's a bit of a surprise, considering your diagnosis," House baited, but Cuddy was prepared for him.

"Oh yes, _such _a surprise that the stomach flu would be all better after three days of rest and fluids!" she countered with just enough sarcasm to pass for confidence.

"Since when do you need a visit from your hoo-ha doctor for the stomach flu?" House probed bluntly. Cuddy stopped writing on her memo mid-sentence and fixed him with a daggered stare.

"Since when is anything to do with my hoo-ha your business?!" she demanded.

"Since you made it my business," House challenged with an all-too-knowing smirk. At this point and time, Cuddy made a big production of slamming her pen down on the desk, folding her hands in front of her, and moving her head forward just enough to be imposing an intimidation tactic.

"Fine, House. Since you are obviously incapable of leaving well enough alone," Cuddy began, clearly irritated, "Myron's been treating me for uterine fibroids for the last couple of months. She did a routine procedure to begin removing them a couple of weeks ago, and when Cameron found out she thought Myron should make sure there was no possibility my symptoms were a complication from the procedure."

"There was nothing in your file about surgery," he came back with immediately.

"While I'm touched at your level of concern," Cuddy began dryly, "there wouldn't be anything in my file here about it… not that you should have been nosing through my file in the first place. The procedure was done at Mercy. Myron has privileges there."

"Why would you go all the way over to Mercy to have something done by a doctor that has privileges here?" House interrogated. He saw poor logic in her decision making, and if House lacked patience with anything, it was poor logic.

" 'Why would I go somewhere else?' I can't believe you!" Cuddy stood up, positively livid. "To avoid exactly what you're putting me through right now! Prying into my very private medical issues that in no way, shape, or form have anything to do with you!"

"So you had it done at Mercy just so I wouldn't find out, or so that no one here would find out?" House clarified.

"Both," answered Cuddy. "I wanted my personal medical issues kept personal. And no business of mine can ever be kept personal in this hospital, especially with you running around blaring my personal business for all to hear at fog horn decibel levels!"

Cuddy expected House to shoot back with some kind of piercing retort, but instead he simply stared at her intently, apparently for once in his life at a loss for words.

"Ok, you have a point," he finally began slowly, flipping his cane back and forth as he spoke. "Mind you, a very idiotic and neurotic point, but I suppose a point nonetheless." Cuddy couldn't believe what she was hearing. It certainly wasn't any kind of an apology, but to a degree it was an acknowledgement that House seemed aware that his behavior may have pushed the envelope too far.

"So now that you know I guess it'll be all over the welcome page of the hospital's T.V. announcement screen," Cuddy sighed, sitting back down and pretending to get back to her work.

"No, I was thinking more along the lines of decorative coffee mugs for the staff," House said sarcastically, continuing, "with a really hot picture of you in that low-cut purple sweater of yours, with a caption reading 'fibroids are sexy'!"

Cuddy tried giving House her best cool-eyed stare-down, but unwittingly her lips began to curl into a small smirk, and before she knew it she and House were both laughing. This gave them silent permission to re-establish eye contact, and as their laughs died down, there was a fleeting second of unspoken understanding between them that said everything in their little universe had found one small moment of harmonious existence.

"So," House said, breaking the spell, "Do you have a new patient for me, or should I just keep terrorizing the clinic nurses until something more entertaining comes up?"

"Actually, Cameron just sent one up from the ER. Your team's checking him out now," Cuddy answered, handing House the file. "Male, early forties, presented with hallucinations, elevated BP and spiking a temp of 104."

"Hmmm," House mumbled as he glanced over the file. "A middle-aged drunken priest that's hallucinating Jesus? I don't see anything very interesting or cool about that."

"If Cameron thought the hallucination was related to the alcohol, she wouldn't have asked for your team," Cuddy lied. Cameron had actually said it probably _was_ the alcohol, but House could take a personal look and come to that conclusion himself as long as it got him out of Cuddy's office.

"Until something more dope comes up, I think I'll just chill here with you, shortie," House said using his best gangsta impression as he kicked his feet up on her desk and tossed the file back in her general direction. Fortunately for Cuddy, she had planned for just such a reaction.

"Well, since you're staying," she started, softening her tone oh so effectively, "have you thought any more about coming to Rachel's simchat bat this weekend?" House's countenance changed immediately from a smug grin to the closest his face ever got to a deer-in-headlights look, but Cuddy continued, "I know it's not really your idea of a fun evening, but it would mean so much to me if you would come."

"Love to stay and chat boss, but I have a case, remember?" House said dramatically as he stood up and reclaimed the priest's file from Cuddy's desk.

"Oh, alright," Cuddy responded with a convincingly crestfallen expression. "We can just talk about it later, then."

"No, we won't. I have no intention of encouraging your flagrant religious hypocrisy," House stated as he made his way to the door.

"Have it your way, but you're missing some great food!" she called after him.

"I'm sure I'll survive somehow," he said, feigning wistfulness as he opened the door, turning around to add, "And may I say it is truly a relief that you have uterine fibroids."

"Relief?" Cuddy questioned, puzzled. This, she was not expecting.

"Yeah, I could have sworn you were seeing Myron because you were pregnant!" House said mockingly, but knowingly.

"Keep dreaming, House," Cuddy retorted, keeping her eyes on her work.

"That's no dream. That, my dear Cuddy, would be a nightmare," House said with an air of seriousness as he finally walked out the door.

At this remark, Cuddy's head shot up from her desk just in time to see the door close behind House. She wouldn't have expected a positive reaction had she told him the truth, but she wouldn't have expected him to out rightly call the situation a nightmare, either. Well, his reaction just proves I made the right decision, Cuddy thought to herself as she turned her attention back to her work.

After taking a deep breath, Cuddy smiled at her ability to kill not two, but three birds with one stone. She had convinced House she had fibroids, she had gotten him to take a diagnostics patient that probably had nothing wrong with him, and she had stopped House from coming to and effectively ruining Rachel's simchat bat. For the time being, Lisa Cuddy felt like she was winning the ongoing game that continuously played between herself and House. Even so, House's reaction to the idea of her pregnancy would continue to plague Cuddy's subconscious for the next several weeks.


	9. Chapter 9

**** Thanks for all the reviews!! I don't know about you guys, but I'm both excited and scared about tomorrow's episode. I may actually stay up late after my choir rehearsal to watch it because I'm just dying to find out what House is going to do about Lucas!! Usually I just watch it on Tuesdays after work, but I don't think I'll be able to stand the suspense. Eeek!!  
**

True to his word, House had stayed away from Rachel's simchat bat. In fact, House had started avoiding Cuddy, Wilson, and pretty much anyone else in general for a good couple of weeks toward the end of February unless he needed them for something involving a patient.

House had almost started acting what one could call… normally. At first, Cuddy had taken his more even-keeled behavior as a cue that maybe he would be ready to hear the truth about her pregnancy; that was, until she found out the reason for his more balanced demeanor.

House, it turned out, had dropped his steady companion of vicodin for the more desired, but dangerous results of methadone. His secret had inadvertently come to light when his heart stopped while he was taking a nap, and Cuddy had demanded that he quit the methadone immediately. Not wanting her or anyone else running his life, House chose the methadone over his job.

Cuddy didn't want to believe the possibility that methadone could be causing House to walk out of her life for good. For a brief time, she considered using the truth to lure him back, but another idea came to her soon enough. Why not let him take the methadone? It was fairly safe as long as he was properly monitored.

Cuddy, therefore, relented and offered House his doses of methadone along with his job back. House accepted the latter, but not the former. The methadone, he claimed, had made him more suggestive to the demands of a young patient's parents, and House's passiveness had allowed an unnecessary procedure that had nearly cost the young patient his life.

All of the commotion surrounding House's methadone use, along with his temporary state of disinterest in her personal affairs, had caused Cuddy to overlook how much her figure was changing as she approached her fourth month of pregnancy. Cuddy would pay for her oversight, however, as House slowly reverted back to his normal and more observant self.

* * *

As House slipped back into the more comfortable clutches of vicodin, he also slipped back into his old habits of stealing Wilson's French fries and paying very pointless, but very entertaining visits to Cuddy's office. During one such visit, Cuddy was filing some papers and lecturing him about his latest exploit in the clinic that had led to a complaining patient.

"I'm just saying House," she blathered on as House absentmindedly sat on the couch and twirled his cane, "It wouldn't kill you to pretend to act like a human being for the five hours a week you have to spend in the clinic…"

She kept talking, but he wasn't paying attention to anything that was coming out of Cuddy's mouth. Instead, House was relishing in the opportunity to check out Cuddy's hot bod while her eyes were focused elsewhere. He started by watching the shape of her luscious mouth as it moved, trailing down to the perkiness of the twins, and as his eyes moved lower still House couldn't help but notice the slight abdominal swell in her profile.

With all of the craziness caused by the methadone, until that moment House had nearly forgotten about the whole episode of Cuddy's fainting spell and the ensuing pregnancy suspicions that said episode had caused. In those few seconds, though, House's mind began churning almost faster than he could process. He abruptly removed his feet from the coffee table and used his cane to stand up, looking at Cuddy all the while like he was trying to see right into her head. She was still talking, but she had yet to notice his penetrating stare.

"…and if you keep alienating the nurses, you're just going to be digging yourself into an even bigger hole…" Cuddy continued, but she trailed off upon noticing the unnerving gaze with which House had currently affixed her. "House?" she questioned in a small voice. If she didn't know better, Cuddy could have sworn he was getting ready to lay into her about something…

In fact, House had considered tearing into her right then and there for a millisecond and had even started to open his mouth, but a much more satisfying epiphany had suddenly blazed into the back of House's brilliant mind with the might of a nuclear explosion.

"Have to go see about a patient," he said impassively as he turned and limped out of the room. The look of confusion on Cuddy's face as he left her office would be no match for the look of horror he would invoke in mere minutes once his plan was put into effect.

* * *

Nick Greenwald, the current diagnostics patient who was suddenly afflicted with no discernable filter for what came out of his mouth, was brought to the CT scan room by Foreman and Thirteen, who were preparing to examine his brain. While House seemed to continuously suffer from a similar affliction, the difference between the two was that Nick Greenwald usually stopped to weigh the consequences of his words before he said them and desperately wanted his mental filter back.

House, on the other hand, never had a filter to begin with and had no desire to develop one. That did not stop him, however, from using Nick Greenwald's current state of unintentionally brutal honestly to his full advantage in exposing Cuddy's suspected dishonesty. As Foreman and Thirteen helped Nick Greenwald onto the scanning table, Thirteen was double checking to make sure the patient knew what it was they were looking for.

"So you're sure you understand the procedure?" Thirteen clarified.

"You ask me questions while I talk, you look at my brain activity to see where it's screwed up, and then you cut out the screwed up part to test it," Greenwald recited with disdain. "It's depressing, but it's not rocket science."

"I think he understands," Foreman said with a knowing glance at Thirteen.

"I don't mean to be abrasive… especially since you're such a pleasure to imagine naked," Greenwald said lecherously to Thirteen, but immediately catching his slip. "Again, sorry."

"It's ok," she said dismissively as she checked his position.

"Thank you for understanding," he emphasized again. "I'd do you, though," his lack of filter added as an afterthought. "Really, my apologies, this stuff just keeps coming."

"Really, it's ok," Thirteen reiterated, just as Cuddy walked into the room.

"House paged?" she asked a little apprehensively as she surveyed the scene.

"Whoa… I would do her in a minute with fudge and a cherry on top…" Greenwald said bluntly while he checked out Cuddy, as an expression crossed between shock and horror swept across her face. "Would someone please explain to this woman? There are only so many apologies…"

"He has frontal lobe dis-inhibition," Thirteen stated simply, but unfortunately for both women Greenwald just kept right on talking about their perceived best assets.

"I've already embarrassed myself with one doctor," he directed at Cuddy, and continued, "who I am at this moment imagining naked with you on a king size bed and a mirror on the ceiling… I am so, so sorry… but if I couldn't have both of you together, you would definitely be my first choice…" Greenwald continued with a gigantic grin to Cuddy.

"Where's House?" she asked Thirteen and Foreman wearily, already suspecting the answer.

"It's like trying to think of an elephant…" Greenwald persisted, "Not that you're an elephant, but your breasts are actually pretty big for you being so tiny… and you've got a little belly… hey, is she pregnant?" Greenwald directed at Foreman completely seriously, "cause that's even _hotter_…"

Before any of the stunned doctors could answer him, the lights went on in the CT observation room. There sat House, feet propped up on the desk, cane spinning in his hand, looking very pointedly right at Cuddy. She turned to face him, but almost just as abruptly turned on her high heels and walked out of the room.

"Was it something _I _said?" Greenwald gingerly asked the two remaining doctors.

"I have a feeling you just expedited something that was bound to happen sooner or later, anyway," Thirteen answered, sharing a significant glance with Foreman. As they were talking, House got up and purposefully followed Cuddy through the outer doors of the CT room and into the hallway.


	10. Chapter 10

**** Here's an update! Please keep reviewing, it gives me the drive to keep working :-) Who else thought last night's episode was kind of wak? What the eff is wrong with Cuddy? Someone on the Fox forum said she's acting like a teenage girl, and I totally agree. And House I think was reacting to what happened with Cuddy, throwing himself into work. Can we please just lock them in a room together until they figure it out?!**

"So it's true," House said bitingly as he limped quickly down the hall to catch up with Cuddy, "the boss has a bun in the oven," he added, increasing his volume to attract the attention of all the other staff in the hallway. They were nearly to House's office by this point, and rather than have the inevitable scene in front of half the hospital, Cuddy haphazardly grabbed his free hand and practically yanked him through his own door.

"You insensitive ass!" she hissed at him, brimming with anger as she closed the door behind them. "So you figured it out. Good for you. Did you have to make a big production out of humiliating me in front of half your team _and _a patient?" she asked, gesturing lively as she spoke.

"Yes I did," he answered, locking his blue eyes with hers. "Because you made just as big of a production of lying to me to cover it up. And since Brutally Honest Guy just happened to be here right now, I figured, why not have a little fun with it?"

"But why is it such a big deal if I lied to you about it, anyway, House? 'Everybody lies,' right? How is this any different?"

"You aren't _everybody_, Cuddy," he said, turning his head away from her. "I expect a lot of things from you. I expect you to hassle me endlessly about clinic duty, pretend to fight me about doing risky procedures just to give in and back me up, wear clothes that make it _impossible_ for me not to stare at your ass, and I expect you to just generally be a gorgeous pain in _my_ ass every single day of the week." Then he once again fixed her eyes with his own. "But I never would have expected you to lie to me about something this important," he added quietly.

Cuddy was silent for a moment, caught off guard by his genuine, if acerbic words and the expression on his face that looked almost… hurt. "But _why_ is it so important to you?" she pushed. "What's it to you if I went and got myself knocked up?"

"Cut the crap, Cuddy. You know exactly what I mean. It's my kid, isn't it?" he questioned, gesturing to the swell in her belly. Now Cuddy was really perplexed. She knew that he was going to find out eventually, but she had supposed he would just run as far as he possibly could in the opposite direction. But he wasn't running. He was standing right in front of her, forcing his truth onto her and demanding the same verity in return.

Cuddy boldly fixed House with her most glacial stare. "It's not yours," she lied, entirely too convincingly for either of their good. House returned her stare with utter shock that immediately melted into an expression that accurately illustrated both his hurt and his anger. His words reflected his face.

"Just how many of us guys were you doing back in the fall?" he interrogated bluntly. "You've got to be what, going on 4 months to show this much. Whoever it was must have been in your bed either right before or right after me. That's quite an assembly line you've got going."

"Screw you, House. It was a one time thing at a medical conference, which officially makes it none of your fucking business!" she said angrily as she made her way past him toward the door, but he took her hand and pulled her back urgently until she was right up against him.

"I don't believe you Cuddy," he breathed, his face inches from hers. He kissed her first fully on the lips, but began slowly kissing his way down her jaw line and neck. Cuddy melted into the moment seamlessly, quickly forgetting why they were arguing in the first place as she allowed her arms to encircle his back. House stopped and brought his mouth right up to her ear and whispered, "Did he make you scream his name the way that I did?"

Immediately remembering her anger, Cuddy ripped apart from him. "Yes!" she yelled as she finally got to the door of his office. "I screamed his name so loud that the people next door called the goddamn police!" she added for good measure as she exited with a resounding slam.

For at least a minute afterward, House just stared at the door, half expecting Cuddy to come walking contritely back. When she didn't, House left the office just as hastily to go find the other person with whom he was sure he had a legitimate reason to be furious. Wilson.

* * *

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?!" House yelled angrily as he burst in to Wilson's office. Thankfully, since it was getting to be evening, Wilson was sitting alone at his desk, sans patients, sifting through papers and nursing an hours-old cup of coffee.

Wilson sighed. "What is it that I was supposed to tell you?" he asked, although he was pretty sure House's obvious rage made the question moot.

"That Cuddy's knocked up, you idiot," House shot back bitingly. "And don't even try to tell me you didn't know, because it's obvious that you did. All that bullshit about gastroenteritis? You were helping her lie to me."

"I wasn't trying to help her lie, House," Wilson responded calmly. "I was just trying to respect the wishes of a friend. She said she didn't want anyone to know yet, and that group of 'anyone' happened to include you." He paused, then asked, "Did she decide to tell you, or did you find some James Bond way to drag it out of her?"

"Well actually, she asked me down for a spot of tea and we had a lovely little heart to heart about it," House said sarcastically. "What do you think? I had her paged to the CT room with my patient that says everything his horny little frontal lobe is thinking, including wanting to do our pregnant boss."

"You didn't," Wilson said, shaking his head before he layed them down in his hands. "Obviously you suspected it already to pull that stunt… why didn't you just ask her?"

"Because _obviously _she would have just lied to me again… I thought she was pregnant weeks ago, but she managed to pull the wool over my eyes by telling me she had fibroids. Then today, I was checking her out like any other day…" he paused, and then more quietly said "And I noticed her belly. I had to catch her off guard so she wouldn't have time to come up with another story."

"Ok…" Wilson began. "So Cuddy's pregnant, and she didn't want you to know about it, probably because she knew you would fly off the handle just like you're doing. So she lied to you because she thought, albeit misguidedly, that she was making life a little easier for herself. It's not great that she lied to you, but why is it such a big deal?"

House thought for a minute. He knew damn well why it was a big deal, but he wasn't sure he wanted to share that part with Wilson yet. At this particular moment, House was feeling very betrayed by his best friend. Since he didn't say anything right away and continued to silently stare at his feet, Wilson decided to fill in the blanks for himself.

"I think you're upset for the same reason you get upset when Cuddy goes on dates or spends time with Rachel. You're jealous of anything or anyone that takes her focus off of you for even a minute," Wilson said, standing up and walking over to House. "You like her. In fact, I think you might even love her. And it's _killing _you that she slept with someone else, got pregnant, and then lied to you about it."

"Well, that just shows how much you know," House finally said as he made his way to the door. "The only part that really upsets me is that she lied to me about it. I know, I know, everybody lies. I know I always say that. But I never want to think that the biggest, fattest liars are going to be two of the only people that I actually consider my friends."

House slammed Wilson's door just as Cuddy had slammed his not half an hour before. Wilson, not really knowing what to do, sat back down at his desk and tried to get back to work. He did this half-heartedly, because he fully expected a knock at the door or a ringing phone to bring him Cuddy's side of the story at any second.

More and more in the months since he had been back on speaking terms with House, Wilson had been feeling like the unwilling referee in House and Cuddy's constant rounds of sparring. And the recent turn of events told Wilson that he wouldn't be hanging up his whistle any time soon.


	11. Chapter 11

**** Here's an update for ya!! Since I'm a teacher, I get Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday off for Thanksgiving. Hopefully I'll have lots of time to write, and you'll get some extra updates :-) I'm feeling pretty much the same way about tomorrow night's episode as I was last week's... anxious, but also some dread. I just have a feeling that House is going to do something stupid and adolescent... I wish he would just wait it out and let Cuddy and Lucas break themselves up. Cause I'm pretty sure it would just explode on its own eventually. We'll just have to see what the writers have in store for us, I guess!!**

Through the next couple of weeks and his next couple of cases, House tried his very best to simultaneously avoid and annoy Cuddy equally. His team treated a patient that worked at a nursing home with a death-predicting cat, and Cuddy was sure that the patient was faking just to gain attention for the feline's alleged psychic abilities.

House, who under normal circumstances would have immediately dismissed the geriatric nurse's superstitions as asinine nonsense, took up the case like he was on some kind of a mission. Not wrongly, his team had a sneaking suspicion that his sole motivation was proving Cuddy wrong, which he did. Not much had changed, really.

By this point in the middle of March, Cuddy had been bracing herself for weeks for House's inevitable revenge on her lies. He had done everything in his power to exasperate her daily at work, many times without actually coming in contact with her at all. House being House, however, was merely doing his best to lull Cuddy into a false sense of security by not acting extremely differently than usual. This was merely the calm before the storm.

On an unseasonably warm Monday morning, March 30th to be precise, the preverbial atomic bomb exploded in the clinic at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Cuddy stalked into the building much later than expected, and the flat shoes she had recently traded in for her usual heels were not making near enough noise to suit her mood. It was already nearly 10am, and she knew he would already be there, hiding in the last place he _thought _she would look. House was smart, but being an old dog, he had also over-used some of his best tricks.

Cuddy angrily made her way through the doors of the clinic, and seeing that exam room 1 was without a patient, flung the door open loudly. Sure enough, there he was on the exam table, engrossed in playing his beeping PSP.

"House! My office. _NOW!!" _Cuddy demanded. She walked out of the room without ever making eye contact with him, enduring many inquisitive stares from both the staff and patients alike as she practically stomped to her office. Surprisingly, House follwed not far behind.

"Move along kids, nothing to see here," House said glibly as he opened the recently slammed door to Cuddy's office. "Whatever it is, we definitely know it isn't PMS!" he added to the nearby nurses in a stage whisper before he closed the door behind himself. She was waiting for him, standing impatiently with her hands on her hips and wearing a glare that showed almost as much hurt as it did indignation.

"How could you _do _this?" Cuddy demanded. "I don't care how bruised your ridiculously oversized ego is. This is low, even for you."

"Not quite as low as your blouse, though," House retorted easily, sneaking a peak from a safe distance. "And wow, the view's even better now that your jugs are filling with milk!"

"God, just shut up!" Cuddy yelled back at him. "You can be as big of a jerk as you want here, in the confines of the hospital, as long as you don't kill anyone. I can accept that from you. But messing around with my _family_? I know that you wouldn't know a boundary if you walked right into one, but my family and my personal life are definitely off limits to you, no exceptions."

"Well how was I supposed to know you hadn't told your mother the good news yet?" House asked innocently.

"You never should have been talking to my mother in the first place, _obviously_," Cuddy said, still agitated. The arguing was making her tired, which these days happened incredibly easily, and so she walked over to the couch and sat down. Cuddy had planned on giving House a full verbal thrashing, but she was beginning to think that she just didn't have the energy. So, she lay her head back on the couch and closed her eyes for a minute, subconsciously rubbing her belly.

House couldn't help but watch her, even though with every fiber of his being he wished he could resist. And he would never say it without the heavy veil of sexual innuendos, but there was something about Cuddy pregnant that made her even more beautiful, if that was possible. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to find House's baby blues looking back at her with a very curious expression on his face. Temporarily forgetting their argument, Cuddy was amused.

"What?" she asked him, a small smile playing on her lips as she sat up and rested her head on a propped up hand. When he said nothing, she snapped her fingers. "Earth to House? Anybody in there?"

"Yeah," he answered, quickly composing himself. "You know, I think I must have hit my head harder than I thought when I fell off my motorcycle on Saturday… it sure would explain and therefore excuse any inexcusable behavior that I may have exhibited in the last 48 hours," House finished as he popped open his vicodin bottle and dry swallowed a couple of pills. Cuddy predictably rolled her eyes.

"Nice try, Evil Knievel," she retorted as she went to sit down at her desk. "I am still completely furious with you, and I plan on staying that way for quite awhile."

"Oh, come off it, Cuddy," House chastised as he came and leaned on the front of her desk. "I did you a favor. You've been avoiding telling your family, especially your mother, about your mystery spawn way more than I've been avoiding you. If I hadn't called your mother, she would have had a very rude shock at Chanukah this year when you showed up with a kid." At this, Cuddy suppressed a grin.

"So… now I'm confused. You told my mother I was pregnant out of spite, or you told her to relieve me of the burden of telling her myself?"

"Well, it would _hardly_ be the first time I managed to fully satisfy your needs and my needs simultaneously, would it?" he questioned tauntingly. Before Cuddy had a chance to answer, there was a knock at the door. Kutner entered without waiting for an invitation.

"House, Taub's got the locked-in patient communicating with that computer set up. It looks like it's working," Kutner explained, a certain level of excitement detectable in his voice.

"Great. Let's go see what Helen Keller has to say," House said as he began making his way to the door.

"House, I didn't say we were finished talking," Cuddy said in a warning tone.

"Hmm, I had the distinct impression that we actually _were _finished talking, since I'm walking out the door and closing it behind me," he retorted as he did just that.

Cuddy was far from happy with House, but deep down a part of her believed that his act of exposing her pregnancy to her mother hadn't been entirely selfish. When her mother had called her, she had initially been furious with Cuddy for not telling her about the pregnancy right away, and her mother was even more furious that House of all people was the one to break the news. Eventually, Cuddy's mother softened upon realizing that she indeed had another grandchild on the way.

"In a way, House really did do me a favor," Cuddy thought to herself as she tried to delve into real work for the first time that day. Warped as she knew her viewpoint was, he had obviously done it to get her attention, which might mean his anger toward her was subsiding.

Since things looked like they might be getting back to normal… or as "normal" as they could ever get between the two of them, she started thinking that maybe it was time to tell him the truth. Cuddy, however, wouldn't get a chance that week. In a few short days, none other than Lawrence Kutner would turn all of Princeton-Plainsboro upside down in a way that even House could never have envisioned.


	12. Chapter 12

**** Thanks for continuing to read and review!! It makes my day :-) So, who else REALLY wants to punch Cuddy this week?? He's supposed to be freaking recovering, and she goes and punks him like that?? Seriously. She's a pod person. I feel like I don't even know her anymore!! Sorry for my mini-rant, but it's really been bugging me.**

Dr. Lawrence Kutner was dead.

When he had failed to show up for work on that fateful Monday early in April, his colleagues had suspected that something was amiss. The sometimes adolescent Kutner was late for work occasionally, but by minutes, not hours like their perpetually tardy department head. So, Foreman and Thirteen had gone to his apartment, thinking that they would probably find Kutner either sound asleep to a beeping alarm or hung over to the point of incapacitation.

Instead, to their horror, the couple discovered their friend sprawled on the floor of his bedroom. He lay motionless in a pool of his own blood, the gun that created the wound in his head laying eerily close to his hand. They called an ambulance, but Foreman and Thirteen knew it was useless. Kutner's body was ice cold.

Later that day, the team found themselves back around their table in the conference room attached to House's office, where the absence of Kutner's gangling presence and kid's sense of humor was painfully palpable. House grilled his three remaining fellows incessantly, alternating between probing them for possible motivations for suicide to chastising them for missing any signs of distress or depression that Kutner may have shown.

In reality, he was inwardly probing and chastising himself just as much. House would not admit it to his team, or to Cuddy or Wilson for that matter, but deep in his soul he felt guilt; guilt for not noticing any anomaly in Kutner's behavior, and therefore guilt because Kutner had killed himself. The man who said he was only there for the puzzles was pretending not to care. The man who saw everything coming was suddenly sure of nothing.

In the days following Kutner's death, there had been a silent acknowledgement of truce between House and Cuddy. If it was possible, he was closing himself off emotionally even more drastically than he usually did, and she was genuinely concerned. The team's current patients, a couple in their sixties dying from two different causes, barely held House's interest. He squeezed by on his bare diagnostic minimum and instead threw himself into searching for any explanation for Kutner's demise that would refute the possibility of suicide.

House had spent the better part of his day on the computer doing just that, until he was interrupted by Cuddy walking into his office in the late afternoon. He continued to focus intently on the screen of his Mac but sent Cuddy a subtle sidelong glance as she sat down in one of the chairs across from his desk. She was wearing pants, which he had noticed she had started to do more often, and a slightly baggy top that still showed the hint of her growing baby bump. As much as House wanted a distraction from his current hell, he didn't want it to be her out-of-reach hot pregnant body.

"Shouldn't you be off grazing somewhere, mother cow?" House snarked derisively. Cuddy almost came back with a sharp retort, but decided to stick to the reason for her visit.

"IT's been trying to close out Kutner's email account all afternoon," she stated matter-of-factly, "But apparently, _someone_ is still logged onto it," Cuddy added, gesturing to House's laptop.

"It wasn't hard to figure out that his password was 'Kutner,'" House responded without emotion. "He did exactly what they tell you not to… if he didn't want people hacking into his email, he should have picked a password less obvious than his own name."

Cuddy looked at him with sincere concern in her eyes. "Why are you doing this, House?" she asked quietly, already fairly sure of what his answer would be.

"Because someone has to figure this out," he answered firmly, finally granting her eye contact, but only fleetingly. "The police are idiots for immediately dismissing this as a suicide. He witnessed a murder, for Christ's sake, Cuddy. Who's to say this wasn't some type of revenge?"

Cuddy sighed. She had expect him to do this, but she had hoped it wouldn't be so extreme. "He wasn't murdered," she said gently, putting her hand across the desk and tentatively laying it on top of his. House looked up at her curiously at the unanticipated contact, trying to remember the last time they had touched. He was pretty sure it was the night he had uncovered her pregnancy and forced Cuddy into an impetuous embrace and lip-lock. He mentally shook the image before continuing their conversation.

"But his parents _were _murdered_, _and the guy who killed them is coming up for parole."

"He's coming _up _for parole, he's not _out _on parole," Cuddy countered, frustration clear in her tone as she retracted her hand.

"Kutner testified at every one of his hearings. The guy wouldn't be the first to see the clock ticking and hire a buddy from prison or his previous life of crime to carry out the deed for him," House continued decisively.

"He was killed by his own gun…" Cuddy began.

"…which he bought years ago, obviously for self defense," House interrupted as he got up to relieve some of his excess energy by pacing, but she jumped in again.

"… in the temple, the cops found residue…" Cuddy finished even more softly than before.

"Oh, because the murderer would _never_ make it look like suicide," House retorted. "That would be unethical," he continued mockingly as he reached in his pocket for his vicodin bottle and proceeded to dry-swallow 3 pills.

"Did you just take 3 pills in one shot?" Cuddy asked, surprised.

"Jeez, Mom, I didn't know you were counting," he replied flippantly, continuing to pace. Now it was Cuddy's turn to get up.

"You know, it's ok for you to be upset about this," she began as she absent-mindedly followed him around the office. "He thought like you, pushed boundaries like you… he lit a patient on fire, for crying out loud, and I still let you hire him because I could tell that you saw some of your better qualities in him."

Cuddy's candor surprised House. But he was even more disturbed by the accuracy with which she had deciphered the inner workings of his mind that he always worked so tirelessly to hide from the rest of the world. Not comfortable with the intimate direction of the conversation, House changed the subject.

"You haven't asked about my patient," he deflected suddenly, stopping to look Cuddy in the eyes once again.

"You're waiting on AAT protein results," she replied automatically.

"That means you checked up to see that I'm still on top of it," he stated knowingly. "You want to transfer the case, but you won't, because you think it might be the only thing that's holding me together. Well… relax," he said as he made his way back toward his desk. "Either I'm right, or I'm wrong. We'll know soon enough. "

"Find out what's killing your patient," Cuddy said as she shifted herself to face him. "And then… I'll find you another patient."

"How many patients until it will be ok that Kutner's dead?" House slipped without meaning to. For once, the real thought that was actually running through his heart made it out of his mouth without his brain so much as blinking.

In that instant, House's vulnerability was so painfully visible on his face that Cuddy couldn't help but let her guard down completely, walking up to him unashamedly and wrapping her arms around him. Without stopping to think, House permitted his emotions to rule the moment.

He returned Cuddy's embrace whole-heartedly, allowing her to share the burden of his pain as he slid his fingers into her hair and rested his head in the crook of her neck. She smelled amazing, and she sent electric sparks flying up his spine as she soothingly stroked his back. It was a moment that both of them could have languished in forever, and House was contemplating moving his hand to her face to seal their clinch in a kiss, when it happened.

KICK.

Both pairs of eyes fluttered open instantly into wide-eyed expressions of shock. House pulled away from Cuddy as if he had been burned to find her looking down at her belly, holding it in her hands. She looked up at him wearing a huge smile, but he didn't return it.

"First time?" he asked coldly, turning his back to her to look out the window.

"Yeah," Cuddy replied in a daze, continuing to rub her belly. The electricity between her and House… could that be what brought it on? She wondered as she looked toward him. Now more than ever, she wanted to come clean with him, to tell him that the baby now kicking away in her belly was his. She took a deep breath, walked over to him, and put her hands on his shoulders.

"House…" she began quietly, but she could feel him stiffening under her touch.

"Just leave, Cuddy," he stated coldly, his back still to her. "Go find the bastard's father and tell him the good news."

"But House…" she persisted, forcing him around to face her as her tears began to fall.

"I said _leave_," he spat, jerking himself free from her grasp and stalking toward the doors of the conference room. Cuddy wanted desperately to go after him, to make him listen, but she could tell that at this point it would be futile. He was too furious and too badly wounded by both Kutner's death and her lies to hear anything else she had to say. At least on that night.

Cuddy slowly walked out of House's office, looking over her shoulder as she entered the hall to see him sitting in a chair facing the white board in the conference room, his usual gray and orange ball moving in rhythmic tosses over his head. The white board; his place of safety. As she stepped onto the elevator, Cuddy hoped that he would find at least some comfort there.

She regained her composure just long enough to return to the clinic and excuse herself for the rest of the day. Once home, however, Cuddy's tears flowed freely throughout the remainder of night as she alternately paced her living room and obsessively checked on Rachel. This was one hell of a mess she had created for both herself and House, and Cuddy was starting to think she had fashioned such an elaborate web of lies that she would never be able to untangle and mend the damage she had exerted.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello readers!! Sorry for my delay in updating... I'm a music teacher, and it's progress report week. Oy. I will be very busy with concerts 'n such in the next couple of weeks, but I should be updating at least once a week anyway I would think. Here's a longer chapter to make up for the dry spell. Please keep reviewing, it makes my day :-)**

Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital managed to resume its usual rhythm within a few weeks of Kutner's death. By the end of April, the rumor mill was back to its usual tempo, clandestinely chattering juicy bits of melodious gossip between the floors and among the staff. House and Cuddy hadn't spoken since their tense meeting in his office weeks before, and this fact had not gone unnoticed by their colleagues.

If Cuddy had a case for the diagnostics team, she paged Foreman or convinced Cameron to walk the file upstairs; anything to get her out of making a personal appearance. House, in turn, sent Foreman, Thirteen, or Taub to do his bidding in obtaining permission for risky or unusual procedures. In reality, both of them would have been better off to just bite the bullet and face each other. Their unusual behavior only increased the volume of the staff's unique rendition of "Pick-a-Little, Talk-a-Little" to figuratively ear-splitting levels.

Whether it was happiness with her pregnancy or feeling relieved from the burden of keeping it a secret, Cuddy had remained surprisingly oblivious to the large amount of current gossip that centered specifically around her. She had expected that there would be talk once her secret was out in the open and just decided not to pay particularly close attention to what was said. What good would it do, she reasoned? If only she had listened.

It was a Thursday, and Cuddy was just coming from her latest checkup with Dr. Myron in OBGYN. While Cuddy had initially been a little embarrassed about having her own staff handle her pregnancy, Myron had done everything she could to make it easy on her. She always scheduled Cuddy's appointments on the days when mostly seasoned nurses were working. While they showed no less penchant for gossiping about the boss lady than their younger counterparts, the nurses that had been at Princeton-Plainsboro for a long time at least respected Cuddy enough to keep their tones less malicious.

Cuddy was indeed in a happy mood as began to walk back to her office. Myron had done an ultrasound, and while Cuddy was hoping for the baby to be turned at favorable angle to identify the sex, baby Cuddy was stubbornly not in a cooperative mood that morning. How like its father, she had thought to herself. On the bright side, though, the baby was developing normally for 21 weeks, and Myron had been happy with the progression of Cuddy's weight gain.

Feeling hungry as she walked, Cuddy decided to make a detour to the cafeteria. Walking in and grabbing a tray, she started through the line and weighed all of her different options. While the fries and chocolate cake were crying out to her even in the late hours of the morning, Cuddy grudgingly passed them and opted for an egg-white omelet, a whole-wheat bagel with cream cheese and a large parfait of mixed fruit.

As she paid for her food and got a to-go container to take it all back to her office, her chosen blissful ignorance to hospital gossip caused Cuddy to completely overlook a large round table of House's fellows, both past and present, hard at work making lists and passing around money. If Cuddy had only opened her ears just a little as she walked past them, she would have known that the subject of the clandestine chatter and money passing was entirely to do with the paternity of Baby Cuddy.

* * *

As Cuddy was exiting the cafeteria, she found herself literally running right into Wilson.

"Whoa, sorry Lisa!" Wilson said as he helped her catch her tray before it hit the ground.

"Don't worry about it, I've been such a klutz lately," she said good naturedly as she retained her balance. "Side-effect of pregnancy, so I'm told. How have you been? I feel like I haven't seen you all week."

"I'm fine…and you look like you're feeling great!" Wilson replied cordially.

"I am," Cuddy smiled. "I just came from Myron's office. I'm 21 weeks, the baby's healthy, I'm healthy… what more could I ask for?" she said rhetorically.

"I'm happy for you," Wilson smiled back, feeling somewhat ill at east. He couldn't help but feel like they had recently been reduced to two acquaintances exchanging pleasantries rather than friends who had known each other for years. And all because both her and his best friend were behaving like adolescents. "Well, I really do have to get in there and eat, my next appointment's in less than an hour," he said quickly as he began walking into the cafeteria, but Cuddy stopped him.

"James, wait a minute," she said hesitantly as she placed a hand on his arm. "Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but have you been avoiding me?" Wilson avoided her gaze momentarily, but he just couldn't bring himself to lie to her when she asked him so directly.

"Maybe?" he answered in a questioning tone. "Look, I feel like I'm in an awkward position here. He's my best friend, Lisa. You're my friend too, but I guess I'm feeling a little bit torn. You haven't exactly been seeking me out either in the last couple of weeks, but I would have talked to you if you had."

Cuddy knew that he was right . In a way, she realized she had actually been avoiding Wilson, because he in turn was a direct link to House. "I guess you're right," Cuddy said as she smiled a sad smile. "I guess it's one of us just as much as it's all of us."

"Hey now, I most certainly do not deign to put myself in the same dysfunctional category as you two. You're the ones who haven't been able to be in the same room together for days, even for the sake of work, and honestly, I can live with that for now. Because whenever you do end up together, I somehow end up being the referee."

"I'm sorry you feel like you're in the middle," Cuddy said sincerely. "I'm not trying…"

"I know you're not trying to do it," Wilson interrupted. "That's really more House's M.O. than yours. But it doesn't change the fact that it's always where I end up," he finished, feeling increasingly uncomfortable by the second. "Look, I'll be back in my office around 3 if there's anything you do want to talk about. But I really do need to go and eat unless I want to each my lunch for dinner."

"I didn't mean to keep you James… maybe I'll take you up on that offer. See you later," Cuddy said as she watched him walk through the cafeteria doors.

As she finally made her way back to her own office, Cuddy's talk with Wilson really made her think about how badly the situation between her and House had truly deteriorated. She actually missed talking to him, and even missed fighting with him. At least when they were fighting they were talking. Maybe not communicating much, but interacting nonetheless. She hated to admit it, but no matter how happy Rachel or her unborn baby made Cuddy, a piece of her puzzle was decidedly missing without House.

* * *

Finally making his way into the Cafeteria and through the line for food, Wilson picked up a burger and fries for himself. He looked over his shoulder as he did this, for House seemed to have radar when it came to Wilson purchasing himself some deliciously greasy fast food. Oddly, for once House was no where to be seen. Wilson shrugged a bit to himself as he paid for his food and looked for a place to sit and read his newspaper in what would be hopefully uninterrupted peace.

As Wilson located an empty table in the corner of the cafeteria, he couldn't help but notice an Algonquin Roundtable-like set-up nearby, around which sat all of House's past and present employees. Their expressions seemed sly as they chatted in an animated, if secretive manner as they passed money and small pieces of paper around the table. To an outside observer, it might look like a poker game that was missing the cards and chips. But Wilson knew better; he knew one of Chase's infamous pools when he saw one. Against his better judgment, Wilson approached the table. Typically, Chase was leading the discussion.

"Ok, so Thirteen, I've got you down for two hundred, Cameron I've got you down for a hundred and fifty. Anyone else betting on House?" Chase asked the table in general as he eagerly took the roll of bills he had just been handed.

"And why exactly are we betting on House?" Wilson interrupted, an eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"Oh, hi Wilson," Cameron smiled almost a little too nicely, throwing a wide-eyed glance at Chase. But Chase was obviously unfazed and undeterred by Wilson's presence.

"We're betting on who the father of Cuddy's baby is," Chase answered, ignoring Cameron. "And one of the choices for the mystery daddy just happens to be House," Chase added casually as he counted the wad of bills in his hands, which brought a none-too-gentle slap on the arm from Cameron.

"What?" Chase said without a trace of defensiveness. "You really think Wilson's going to be the one to run and tattle-tale to Cuddy? You have no desire to be the bearer of that bit of news, do you?" Chase directed at Wilson.

"Not in the least," Wilson answered honestly. "Nor would I want to be the one to tell House."

"Oh, House knows all about it," Thirteen interjected with a crafty little smile . "He put down five hundred bucks himself."

"Really?" Wilson asked, genuinely surprised. "Who did he bet on?"

"No one knows," Taub supplied mysteriously. "Chase won't tell us."

"It was a condition of his bet," Chase stated simply as he added the new figures to the notebook that kept track of everyone's bets. "He was more than a little pissed off when he found out I was doing it, and even more so that he was one of the choices, so I appeased him by giving him a 50% take if he's right, along with confidentiality of his pick."

"Wow," Wilson finally said, clearly a little dumbfounded as he tried to take all the information in. "So, besides House, who are the choices?" he asked as he pulled up a chair for himself and joined the table.

"There are a total of four," Chase answered. "Besides House, there's Mystery Guy, which would entail anyone that isn't the other 3 choices…"

"Then there are those of us who think she may have just gone back to I.V.F. without telling anyone," Taub added.

"You didn't even work here when that was going on, and I didn't think anyone besides me or House knew about that…" Wilson began.

"How long have _you _worked here?" Foreman interrupted, breaking his silence for the first time since Wilson sat down. "Since when does anything stay a secret around this place for more than 20 minutes?"

"Touché," Wilson murmured grudgingly. "Ok, so that makes 3... what's the fourth choice?"

"Well…" Cameron started, looking around the table at her comrades for silent confirmation before continuing, "…you, actually." Wilson was mid-sip in drinking his Coke, and he promptly spit it out all over Taub and Foreman.

"Yeah, that was pretty much how everyone at this table reacted to it too, but apparently it's kind of a popular choice with other people in the hospital," Thirteen said laughing as she handed a stack of napkins to her two dripping teammates.

"I mean, we're good friends, but anything else…"

"…would be ridiculous, we know, mate," Chase finished for him. "I mean, it's not all _that _many people that think it's you, anyway."

"Well, I already overheard that Cameron and Thirteen think it's House, and Taub, you said you think she did I.V.F… Chase, Foreman, who do you guys think it is?"

"Ah, ah, not so fast… I don't think we need to divulge any more information to someone who isn't participating in our little wager… either you're in, or no more information. I mean hey, if you really wanted to put a stop to it you could still go to Cuddy right now and out all of us, but if you're involved, I'll have something to hang over your head, won't I?" Chase challenged.

Wilson thought for a moment. Chase was certainly showing his most devious colors, but Wilson had a feeling that if he didn't bite and learn as much information as he could about this game, it would come back to haunt him later.

"Ok, I'm in… two hundred on Mystery Guy," Wilson said assuredly, keeping his newly developed suspicion a secret, as he quickly located a pen and scribbled Chase a promissory note. "This will have to do for now. Thanks to House's lack of appreciation for the difference between 'borrowing' and 'stealing,' I try to carry as little cash on me as possible," he added as he handed Chase the note. Everyone at the table laughed, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Ok, now that I can blackmail you…" Chase began, "I went with Mystery Guy, too. House has by far been the most popular vote all around, but I honestly can't see Cuddy sleeping with him. He would be so merciless in holding something like that over her head… she's too smart for that."

"Unless…" Wilson started quietly, but quickly thought better of saying his current thoughts out loud. That was exactly what everyone would expect House to do if they had slept together; announce it over the intercom system or hang it on a banner in the lobby.

Unless… it did happen, it didn't work out the way he wanted it to, it meant something to him, and he was really and truly hurt by her, and she by him. If that had been the case, then it was possible that they would both keep it a secret.

"Unless what?" Cameron asked when Wilson didn't continue.

"Oh, nothing. Woah, look at the time… I'm going to be late for my appointment if I don't take the rest of this to go," Wilson quickly recovered as he picked up his hardly eaten burger and fries to take with him.

"Actually, we should probably be getting back upstairs too… did we get the green light from Cuddy for Seth's brain biopsy yet?" Thirteen asked Foreman.

"Yeah, she called me on my cell to give me the ok when I was on my way down here. She told me she booked him into the O.R. at 1:30... by the way, you're doing the procedure, Chase."

"Great… what's the case again?"

"Deaf kid with exploding head syndrome. We know it isn't cancer, but the latest brain scan has House thinking it could still be some kind of a brain tumor," Taub explained.

"Sounds interesting… see you 'round the OR," Chase said as he and Cameron left the cafeteria together.

"So Foreman, you never said who you thought the dad was," Wilson said as the rest of the group walked out together.

"I'm not getting caught up in this stupid bet," Foreman answered loftily, shaking his head. "I'm not going to be the one to rat Chase out to Cuddy, but when someone eventually does, I don't want my name anywhere near this mess."

"So in other words, you think it's House, but you think he'd blow his stack if you of all people were to point the finger at him," Wilson countered knowingly.

"Isn't that basically what you're trying to avoid by betting on Mystery Guy?" Forman asked furtively.

"Maybe," Wilson replied with a smirk as he and Foreman went their separate ways outside of the cafeteria.

Wilson pushed the button and waited for the elevator, trying to refocus his mind so that he would be ready to interact with his patients by the time he got upstairs. As soon as he had as spare minute, though, Wilson had every intention of seeking out Cuddy before she could come to him. Obviously, she had been hiding something of truly mammoth proportions not only from him, but from his brooding best friend as well.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi all! I know this is a bit of a short update, but my schedule is getting busier and busier as winter break nears. So, if I don't keep the chapters on the shorter side, you'll be waiting for a _really _long time between updates. And I was wondering, are any of you posters on the Fox site?? I'm HCDynamite05 over there, I just thought it would be nice to know if any of you folks are people I talk to on there, as well :-) As always, thanks so much for the reviews and for reading, and please do keep reviewing :-D**

With the exception of Wilson, no one had missed House's presence in the cafeteria at lunchtime. And while it was highly unusual for him to pass up a free lunch with his enabling best friend, House was usually such a nuisance in the cafeteria that the tranquility resulting from his absence was simply an enjoyable anomaly for everyone else.

Instead, House spent the noon hour holed up in the office. The scene inside would have seemed typical to any regular passersby observing through the glass; House sat at his desk, feet propped up, rhythmically tapping his large gray and orange ball on its surface.

What the outside observer would have missed, however, was the pretty woman sitting on House's white lounge chair. They would have missed Amber because she was an invisible figment of House's increasingly disturbed psyche.

"You can't just keep ignoring me, you know," Amber said smugly.

"You wanna bet?" House retorted, clearly agitated.

"I think there's quite enough betting going on around here already, don't you?" she replied with a smirk.

"This is exactly why I'm ignoring you," House continued, averting his glance from her. "At first, I thought you were helping me with the patients, helping me pick up on things that I wasn't consciously noticing. Like using the boom box. And the bowling pins. But you damn near killed Chase. So I'm just going to keep pretending you're not there until you _actually_ aren't there."

"You're getting really _far_ with that, aren't you, since you keep talking every time I say something to you," Amber pushed. "Why are you still here, anyway? It's nearly 12:30, how come you aren't downstairs stealing my boyfriend's lunch?"

"Not hungry. And he isn't your boyfriend anymore, unless he has necrophiliac tendencies that I'm not aware of… "

"Very funny, Lewis Black. Since when are you not hungry for free food?"

"Since you're making me sick to my stomach."

"Correction: _I'm _not making you sick to your stomach. _You're _making you sick to your stomach. Everything I say and do is you. Don't take it out on my manifestation just because you can't stand being handed what you're usually doling out to everyone else."

House was silent. He didn't know how to respond to that. What Amber said was true and correct; she was him. _He _could pick up on symptoms that had not been complained of; _he _had tried to kill Chase. Because Chase was going to be happy. And if there was one thing House couldn't stand, it was anyone around him being that happy when he was unequivocally going through one of the worst things that had ever happened to him, aside from his leg.

Cuddy was lying to him about the baby. She just had to be. The alternative was unconscionable.

"You're thinking about it again," Amber interrupted, verbally cutting into House's internal musings.

"How can I not think about it? You remind me of it every other second," he responded bitterly.

"You know it's yours," Amber stated flatly. "Why don't you just go blow it all wide open?"

"She says it's not mine. She says she slept with another guy. How am I supposed to prove that she didn't? Do an amniotic DNA test without her knowing?"

Amber laughed derisively. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen," she chastised mercilessly. " 'How do I prove it?' This question coming from the man that made four people with varying alcohol tolerances drink shots of tequila to prove that a patient's liver was failing in order to get around Cuddy's paperwork? You're _pathetic, _House," she continued laughing.

"Fine, I'm pathetic," he yelled, getting up suddenly and leaning into his palms on the desk in front of him. "But maybe I don't want to believe that she would lie to me about something this important. Twice," he said, much quieter this time.

"Believe it," Amber said coolly. " 'Everybody lies,' right House? Isn't that your personal mantra?"

"It's my mantra because it's usually true. Not because that's the way I want things to be."

"_Usually _true? It's _always _true, and you know it. And you can't always get what you _want, _can you?" Amber taunted.

"Go to hell, Cutthroat Bitch," House spat pointedly, grabbing his cane and starting toward the door, turning around to add, "Oh wait, that's right. You're probably already there, aren't you?" he added sarcastically.

"Ouch, Dilapidating Genius. Words can hurt, you know," she said with feigned offense. "Besides, you're only saying them to _yourself_. Where are you going, anyway?"

"To tell your ex-boyfriend that you've been paying me these little visits," House answered as he got ready to open the door.

"But he'll send us away… you know he'll say we need to go to rehab," Amber replied, sounding sincerely worried.

"No, he'll just be sending you away. If the royal 'we' do go to rehab, I'll get to come back. You won't."

"I'm coming with you to talk to him," Amber said as she got up and followed House into the hallway.

"Knock yourself out. You're as good as gone, anyway," he said under his breath as he made his way to Wilson's office.

"Maybe," Amber replied. "But I won't be going quietly."


	15. Chapter 15

*** Hello, Readers!! Sorry it has been so long since my last update... got a little writers block as to how to handle the chapter after this one, but since I'm diligently trying to write a chapter ahead of what I post, I just had to finish it first. This one's kind of a shorty, but the next one is at least twice as long. I don't know about you guys, but I'm super excited for: 1) Hugh doing House on "Family Guy" tonight! AND 2) Christmas break is only 5 school days away!! (I've been a student and a teacher, and as the latter I appreciate it a hundred times more!!) Anywho, enjoy and review, s'il vous plait :-)**

Wilson had made his 12:00 appointment on the oncology ward on time with no trouble at all. Moving back to his office for his 12:40 appointment, he was about to embark on one of the least favorite parts of his job; telling a new patient that he had a pretty serious form of cancer. Wilson sat in his desk chair just as he had hundreds of times before, across from a patient who looked expectantly yet fearfully into his eyes, waiting for Wilson to weigh in on his fate.

"Mr. Pietramalav, you have kidney cancer," Wilson said as gently as he could.

"Wow, is that a bad one? I mean, they're all bad but…" the patient started, but was interrupted by yet another inopportune grand entrance of Princeton-Plainsboro's most brilliant diagnostician into Wilson's office.

"The door was closed for a reason," Wilson stated obviously, irritation clearly present in his voice.

"Well, now it's open for a reason. We need to talk," House said curtly.

"He just told me I have kidney cancer," the patient directed at House, turning in his chair to face the man who had so boorishly intruded on his life or death moment.

"Then you'll obviously need a moment to process," House replied insincerely.

"House…" Wilson began to chide his best friend, but he was quickly interrupted.

"I'm hallucinating," House declared loudly, but emotionlessly. As House expected, Wilson's jaw nearly landed on his desk, and his eyes darted quickly back and forth between his friend and his patient as he stood up.

"I'm… I'll be right back," Wilson said to his patient apologetically as he made his way out of the office with House.

"I need you to sit in on my differentials. Double check everything I do," House stated simply as Wilson closed the door behind them in the hallway.

"You can't treat patients…" Wilson responded, his expression showing that he was still in shock at House's declaration.

"It's got to be sleep apnea. I got a good night's sleep, but I still feel exhausted. Lack of delta sleep can lead to hallucinations," House rationalized, but he could tell by the look on Wilson's face that he didn't think that his troubled sleep patterns had anything to do with sleep apnea. Nonetheless, Wilson humored House a little.

"Do you have any other neurological symptoms?" Wilson asked.

"I don't think so," House answered honestly, for once.

"Aphasia?"

"No."

"Memory loss?"

"No."

"Irritability?"

"Yeah, _that _one!" House snarked. Wilson's questions were starting to wear on what little was left of his nerves.

"Don't deflect, he cares about you," Amber interjected to House, making her presence "behind" him known for the first time during his conversation with Wilson.

"You shouldn't be practicing, at least…" Wilson lectured, but Amber began talking to House at the same time, and he felt as if his brain were being split in two, literally.

"Enough!" he finally shouted, no longer able to tolerate the hyper-stimulating verbal dissonance caused by his hallucination and his flesh-in-blood confidant. Wilson shot House a befuddled look, which conflicted with Amber's standard self-satisfied smirk.

"Don't give me that look. I told you, I'm _hallucinating," _House reminded him.

"Ok, so… what do think is causing this extreme irritation?" Wilson asked, honestly trying to keep his tone devoid of any sarcasm.

"Besides everyone on my team acting like an idiot, barely getting any sleep for the last two weeks, and half the hospital taking wagers on whether or not I'm the father of Cuddy's bastard seed? Gee, can't think of a thing!" House retorted angrily.

Wilson sighed. Ever since learning about the bet from Chase during lunch, the wheels in the back of his head had been turning as to how the whole thing would affect House. Wilson knew he was taking a chance, but he had to try.

"Usually you could give a damn one way or the other what anyone around here says about you, but this bet really seems to be a sore spot. Five hundred bucks, huh?" Wilson probed, hoping he hadn't crossed an inerasable line.

"I see you've been talking to Chase," House said quietly, his eyes radiating the betrayal he was feeling. "How much money did _you _put down?"

"That's not the question you really want to ask him," Amber purred mercilessly into his ear, continuing to assert her presence. "You want to know _on whom _he put money down." House tried not to respond as he awaited Wilson's response.

"I put down two hundred. I guess I wasn't as confident in my choice as you obviously were in yours," Wilson finally answered, his raised eyebrow wordlessly conveying his true suspicions.

House looked at the wall, and then down at his feet, thinking that Wilson had evidently spent all too much time with Amber. The tone of House's best friend was inching uncomfortably close to that of his dead girlfriend's pseudo-phantasm.

"Maybe we should continue this discussion in my office?" Wilson offered, breaking the silence. House nodded tersely in agreement, and both of them retreated back through the office door.

"I'm very sorry for the wait, Mr. Pietramalav," Wilson said kindly to his patient as he went back behind his desk and pretended to gather some files while House waited by the door. "But I'm needed for an emergency consult that can't wait. Why don't you head out to the nurse's desk, and they can schedule you another appointment for tomorrow. There are more tests that we need to run, anyway. Does that sound alright?"

"Ok, Dr. Wilson. I'll see you tomorrow," his patient answered, confusion evident on his face as he walked out the door.

Wilson felt positively awful about his current deficit in bedside manner, but sad as it was, not much would change for Mr. Pietramalav in the next 24 hours. House, on the other hand, was quite a different story. The next 24 hours could easily be make or break for him, and Wilson was afraid that the implications of "break" could turn out to be quite literal, at least from a psychiatric perspective.


	16. Chapter 16

**** Here's an update! Since I will be on break as of 3pm tomorrow, I'm hoping I will have lots of time to write in the near future. I would say that the story is probably somewhere between 1/2 to 2/3 complete... and I have the next story decently outlined, and the 3rd one brimming on the back burner in my brain. I may be asking for a little bit of reader opinion on some aspects of the 2nd story coming up pretty soon, so keep your eyes peeled :-) As always, thanks for the reviews, and please keep them coming!! They make my day :-D  
**

Once House and Wilson were alone in his office, Wilson knew that he needed to be very careful with how he directed the next part of their conversation. Judging from House's abnormally agitated demeanor and the lines on his face that seemed more pronounced than usual, he was obviously telling the truth about suffering from lack of sleep. Even in the short time they had talked, though, Wilson was entirely convinced that House's issues weren't purely physical in nature. The mind of the most brilliant doctor in the entire hospital showed clear signs of instability.

"Ok, House. We're alone. Now can you tell me what's really going on?" Wilson asked sincerely as he sat back down at his desk.

"I already told you. I'm hallucinating. I probably have sleep apnea," House answered, avoiding eye contact as he sat down across from his friend.

"He can tell you're lying," Amber announced condescendingly from her current position on Wilson's couch. "He always does that thing with his eyebrow when he's suspicious of something. And right now, he's suspicious of you." House didn't verbally respond to her, but he did look over his shoulder, acknowledging that he had indeed heard what she had said. Wilson noticed.

"Who's talking to you right now?" he probed carefully.

"Someone who's not actually here. Beyond that, it seems irrelevant," House replied, intent on keeping his emotions from showing on his face.

"Your mind made a choice, subconscious or not," Wilson stated simply. "It means something."

"You know he's just going to keep asking," Amber interjected sing-songily as she kicked her feet up onto the coffee table.

"Kutner," House said, this time meeting Wilson's eyes. As anticipated, his face immediately showed a deeply concerned expression.

"Good choice. He feels bad," Amber affirmed.

"You gonna help me, or not?" House inquired, still looking Wilson straight in the eyes.

Still reeling from the information, it took Wilson a second to respond. "Yes… of course I'll do anything I can… but I think first that means getting to the real root of the problem," he chanced, hoping that House wouldn't storm out of the office. When he didn't, Wilson continued. "You and I both know you don't have sleep apnea. Now, I can't pretend that I know exactly what this is, but this much I do know. You're a vicodin addict who's been under an inordinate amount of emotional stress, which means it's likely that these hallucinations and sleep issues are drug induced."

"They could also be psychiatric," House conceded as he closed his eyes and messaged his increasingly sore temples with both of his hands.

"Well, for your sake let's hope it's the drugs," Wilson stated truthfully. "If you have some kind of major psychiatric disorder, they'll take your license permanently. If it's the vicodin, all you need is rehab."

House's face remained blank at the mention of a return to rehab, and inwardly he remarked on the casualness of Wilson's tone when mentioning it. Coming from Wilson, "all you need is rehab" sounded like "take two of these and call me in the morning." A simply suggested fix for an all too complicated problem.

But deep down, House had known that rehab would be the destination of their conversation before it even began. Wilson could tell that House was uneasy with his suggestion but took it as a good sign that he hadn't gone berserk. Somewhat reluctantly, Wilson continued to push his luck.

"So…do you think this was all brought on by Kutner, or might this also have something to do with Chase's bet?"

"When I first found out about the bet, part of me really wanted to kill him," House revealed honestly, the double meaning with Chase's allergic reaction to the stripper's strawberry body butter at the bachelor party not fully resonating with him until that very moment. Wilson didn't seem to make the connection, thankfully.

"Who did you bet on?" Wilson asked curiously, already fairly certain of what his friend's answer would be.

"Myself," House replied, almost inaudibly. Wilson smiled half-heartedly.

"I had a feeling," Wilson confirmed. "But I can't believe you trusted Chase with that. If he told…"

"He's not going to tell anyone," House broke in with a strong tone of obviousness. "That ass-kissing twit is so grateful that I decided not to make the rest of his life a living hell when I found out, he'll do anything I tell him. If Cameron denies him sex for not telling her, he'll withstand abstinence to keep my wrath at bay."

In spite of all the tension in the room, Wilson couldn't help but chuckle a bit at House's deflecting, but resilient sense of humor. Incidentally, House had finally confirmed his friend's suspicions in a roundabout sort of way, but Wilson had to know for sure.

"You slept with Cuddy," Wilson uttered in a bewildered tone. It wasn't a question.

"No, I just projectile-spooged in her hoo-ha from across the room. My aim is _that _good."

This time, both of them laughed out loud a little to relieve the strain. Afterwards, though, a somewhat uncomfortable silence overtook them. Recognizing his role as the facilitator of their conversation, Wilson persisted with his well-meaning interrogation.

"So… when did you two… get together?" he asked cautiously.

"All that medical school and you can't work out some simple obstetrics math? Let's try a word problem," House began sarcastically, getting up and pacing the room to expel some of his nervousness. " 'Lisa is approximately five months pregnant at the end of April. Greg believes that he is the father of Lisa's baby. If a woman's pregnancy lasts for nine months, during what month must Greg and Lisa have gotten jiggy with it?' "

Playing along, Wilson cast an upward glance as he counted through the problem on his fingers like an obliging second grader. "Late November or early December," he finally answered. "Ok… so obviously this was after you kissed her when she lost Joy… and I'm guessing after you tried to go over there to ask her out but couldn't bring yourself to knock. So when?"

House had done a pretty good job of exuding some semblance of confidence by using his sense of humor up until this point, but it was just too difficult to have a serious discussion about his night with Cuddy. As the voice of his most prevalent insecurities, Amber piped in once again as House resigned himself to settling on the arm of the couch.

"Aren't you proud of your conquest?" she mocked. "Don't you want to revel in it in the name of male camaraderie?" Wilson observed House's closed off body language as his hallucination spoke to him, and whoever he did see talking to him was plainly trying to shame or humiliate him. Suddenly, Wilson realized that House must have lied to him about who he was seeing.

"House," Wilson said sternly. Startled, House's head shot up, a wounded look present in his eyes. "You aren't seeing Kutner, are you?"

"What makes you think that?" House snapped.

"If your mind had chosen Kutner, it wouldn't be to punish itself. Whoever is talking to you is obviously trying to knock you down, and your mind would have chosen Kutner as a person to build you up. Who is it, really? Who's knocking you down?"

House knew he couldn't continue lying to Wilson when he consistently countered with sound logic such as this. "Amber," he finally answered. "I'm seeing Amber."

Initially, Wilson was a bit shaken at the mention of his departed girlfriend, who in many ways he viewed as the love of his life. But once he adjusted to the idea, it made complete sense. Amber represented House's helplessness. Amber represented House's guilt. Both were emotions that had been overused and raw in the face of Kutner's suicide but had already been steadily brewing in the year since her tragic, if accidental death. Add Chase's publicly broadcast wager on the father of Cuddy's baby, and one had the perfect recipe for a manifestation of damaged psyche stew.

Getting his mind back on the situation at hand, Wilson noticed that House's head now laid in his hands, and that he looked utterly defeated, both mentally and physically. Wanting to offer some comfort, Wilson walked over to his friend and awkwardly gave him a few reassuring pats on the back.

"It's ok," he said absently, and House looked at Wilson as if _he _were the crazy one. "I mean, it's not _ok_… it sucks, it's terrible. In the last year, you've lost two people who mattered to you in one way or another, no matter how much you want to think that they didn't. And Amber mostly mattered to you because she mattered to me… but Kutner…" he paused, choosing his words carefully, "… Kutner was you with a cheerful disposition. And if you've managed to navigate through your hell of a life thus far without offing yourself, you can't bring yourself to understand how he could have."

House's eyes had moved to his own lap during the speech from his flesh and blood conscience. They again met Wilson's after he had finished talking, however, silently thanking his best friend for verbalizing what he never could have himself. What House didn't know was that Wilson wasn't quite finished.

"And Cuddy," Wilson started again, her name causing House to avert his eyes once again. "You can't even bring yourself to think about what you would do without her."

"Well, I better start figuring it out, don't you think?" House asked rhetorically. "She's as good as gone as it is. First Rachel, now a new baby on the way that'll actually be hers? Even if it is mine, which she says it isn't, it's obvious from her complete avoidance of me in the last few weeks that I have no current role in the equation, as far as she's concerned."

"I didn't realize you'd actually asked her if it was yours," Wilson said, surprised.

"Of course I asked her, as soon as I found out she was knocked up. But she says I wasn't the only one… she says there was somebody at a medical conference…" House trailed off, becoming lost in his own thoughts before he could finish. The brief silence gave Wilson a minute to piece together his own puzzle.

"And you just accepted that at face value?!" Wilson practically yelled, startling House. "You must really be off your game," he added, shaking his head.

"What is it that I should have done to prove she was lying? It's not like I was there," House stated obviously. Suddenly, his signature expression of epiphany crossed his features in a wave.

"Finally," Wilson snorted, taking a stab at a little humor. "For someone who gave such a riveting lecture on mathematics awhile ago, I can't believe that angle hadn't already occurred to you,"

"I wasn't there," House restated to no one in particular. "So, how do I know that she was?"

"Exactly," Wilson said, but the complicated pulley and lever system of House's brain was already humming away as he got up from the couch and made his way toward the door. "Where are you going?"

"Apparently, I forgot about a long-overdue appointment I had to hack into the boss's computer," House answered mischievously.

"That's my boy!" Wilson commended, but House turned around, surprised, just as he reached the door.

"Usually I don't receive such a ringing endorsement from you for my subversive and illegal shenanigans… what gives?"

"Well, she was subversive first… I guess I'm just chalking it up to 'an eye for an eye.' "

"Ah, that's right. Your people always did go in big for that old testament stuff, didn't they?" House asked as he turned the knob on the door. "I doubt Cuddy will share your sentiment," he added as he hurriedly exited Wilson's office and headed back for his own.

He looked over his shoulder as he walked down the hall, and for the first time that day, Amber was not on his heels. House knew better than to think that she was gone for good, but he had a feeling that even some temporary relief from her unrelenting psychological harassment could only do him some good at this point.

Wilson breathed a sigh of relief he hadn't realized he was holding in when House left his office. Quickly, he began working out what his next step should be as the unwitting middle man in what easily resembled one of House's soap opera plots between his two friends. Even though he was sure House would get to the bottom of Cuddy's apparent charade on his own, Wilson thought the best case scenario for House's fragile mental state was for Cuddy to come clean and tell him the truth herself. With the best of intentions, Wilson rolled his figurative dice one more time and headed for Cuddy's office.


	17. Chapter 17

*** Happy early new year, everyone!! Sorry it's been awhile... WAY too much time being taking up with RL holiday drama... believe me, I would much rather have spent my time working on my story. I'm breaking my own rule and posting this chapter even though the next one is not yet written, although it is well outlined. It may be a week or so before the next chapter is up, just so you know! And in the next chapter, you will have awaiting you the details of the Huddy baby's origins in flashback format :-) I have yet to decide whether or not that chapter will contain smut, which would bump this story up to an "M" rating, but it is a possibility. As always, thanks for reading, and thanks for the reviews. They are fabulous and they make me smile, so leave lots of them, s'il vous plait** **:-D**

Unfortunately for James Wilson, oncologist and unofficial psychologist extraordinaire to all who were friendly with him at Princeton-Plainsboro, his overwhelming need to help those around him sometimes overshadowed his otherwise good judgment. When it came to House and Cuddy's relationship, or lack thereof, Wilson initially had been reticent to get involved at all.

He felt sympathetic toward each of their situations for different reasons, and in many ways he had no desire to be the central primate in his friends' ongoing game of monkey in middle. But once Dr. Fix-It was dragged into the action, repairing the situation became a necessity for him. Since he had failed countless times in mending his own personal relationships, it gave him a sense of balance in the universe if he could achieve for others what he could not achieve for himself.

At the present, Wilson was riding the elevator down to the first floor of the hospital and wondering just how he had ended up in this very position, yet again. He really had no idea exactly what he was going to say to Cuddy; he only knew that he needed to convey to her how deeply her lies were affecting and hurting House.

Unlike Wilson, who was all too aware of House's rarely seen soft white underbelly, Cuddy was in the group of people that liked to view House as incapable of having any feelings to speak of. Like Wilson and Cameron, Cuddy did know better, but she felt more justified in lying to House and keeping him out of the loop when she chose to believe that he was a year-round grinch.

The oncologist walked off the elevator, taking a deep breath and straightening his posture as he swiftly made his way through the clinic doors. Normally Wilson disliked imposing pressure on others, but in this particular case, he didn't think that Cuddy would listen to him if he didn't come on strong. Just as he was passing the nurses' station, however, he saw a flaw in his already scantily-laid confrontation strategy. Cuddy had Rachel in her office.

Wilson stopped for a minute to observe the picture before him. Cuddy was playfully lifting Rachel over her head and planting obviously well-received raspberries on the laughing baby's tummy. Not having seen Rachel in over a month, Wilson marveled at how big she had gotten. How old was she now, almost 5 months? For a preemie, Rachel was filling in quite well. She looked healthy and just as happy as her radiantly pregnant mother.

As Wilson continued to watch, Cuddy shifted Rachel so that she was cradling her in one arm, talking to her all the while. Cuddy then took Rachel's tiny hand in her own and held it against her growing belly. He knew it was a poor moment to intrude on mother and daughter, but Wilson was on a mission, after all. Afraid he would lose his nerve if he waited any longer, he quietly let himself into Cuddy's office without knocking.

"…and that's your little brother or sister in their kicking, baby girl… can you feel it?" Cuddy asked Rachel sweetly.

"I'm sure she can," Wilson interrupted gently, a congenial smile on his face.

"Hey, I didn't even hear you come in," Cuddy responded, returning his smile.

"Hi there, cutie!" Wilson said warmly, walking up to Rachel and planting a kiss on her forehead. "Did you come to help your mommy with the board meeting agenda?"

"Actually, she's here because the nanny came down with the flu and had to drop her off," Cuddy sighed. "Mommy isn't getting very much work done, but mommy doesn't really mind, does she?" she cooed at Rachel, tickling her under her chin. Rachel laughed and instinctively grabbed onto her mother's fingers.

"May I?" Wilson asked, holding his arms out toward Rachel.

"Sure," Cuddy replied as she helped Wilson get her baby situated.

"I just can't get over how much Rachel's grown since the last time I saw her," Wilson wondered aloud as he walked around the office with her a bit.

"I know, I can't either," Cuddy agreed, enjoying the scene before her. "She's in the 60th percentile for weight, which isn't bad at all for a preemie."

"No, it isn't… if I didn't know, I might guess she's four months instead of five, but hey. This little girl has overcome more obstacles in her five months that some people do by the time they leave for college."

"True," Cuddy said with a laugh. "What brings you down here, though? Did you need something?"

"Actually, yes," Wilson answered tentatively. "And as much as I hate to break up your bonding time, I think it might be better if Rachel went out to see Brenda for a little while before we talk."

Cuddy's relaxed demeanor immediately shifted, and that wasn't lost on Wilson. The only reason he could possibly have for sending Rachel out to the nurses' station would be that he wanted to discuss something involving House.

"Do we have to have this conversation right now?" she asked plaintively, clearly not looking forward to it.

"It's important that we do," Wilson answered simply.

Cuddy didn't say anything else. She merely looked at Wilson, then at the door, closed her eyes and nodded almost imperceptibly. Taking the cue, Wilson brought Rachel outside to the nurses' station in the clinic, which was blessedly pretty dead at the moment. Cuddy viewed the exchange between Wilson and Brenda from her desk, dread quickly filling her from head to toe.

In less than a minute, Wilson was back in her office, taking a seat on the couch.

"Would you mind sitting over here with me? I don't think it's entirely fair that you get to sit in the boss's seat if we're going to have a conversation as friends," he asked, gesturing to the chair next to the couch.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're here more as House's friend than mine?" Cuddy sulked as she crossed the room to take a seat in the chair.

"You're _both _my friends, Lisa. I probably am closer to him than I am to you, but that doesn't mean I care about your well being less than I care about his. And since he does happen to be my best friend, no one knows better than I do what a pain in the ass he can be to deal with."

"He's completely _impossible _to deal with, as a matter of fact," Cuddy said angrily, crossing her arms over her belly. "And it's not like I'm driving him away on purpose. I would meet him halfway if he would at least make an effort."

"Really?" Wilson wondered aloud. "When's the last time you tried to have a conversation with him?"

Cuddy sighed heavily, then began. "His team finally revolted and refused to play gopher with the two of us last week after going back and forth between my office and his four or five times in an hour about a procedure," she explained. "House finally called down here himself and yelled at me…we fought about it for five minutes or so, and I gave in and let him do the biopsy." Cuddy seemed annoyed as she closed her eyes and recalled the memory, but Wilson couldn't help but notice the spark that appeared in her eyes when she talked about fighting with House.

"And let me guess," Wilson said, a sad smile on his face. "That five minutes was the highlight of your week, wasn't it?"

Cuddy's eyes shot up from her lap at his words, giving Wilson an exasperated look at first. Almost immediately though, she couldn't help herself. As Cuddy slowly nodded, her lips slid into a sad little smile quite similar to the one Wilson was wearing.

"What about a _real _conversation, though? About something other than work. How long has it been since you two had one of those?" he asked carefully.

Cuddy didn't answer him right away. She bit her lip nervously, finally answering, "A couple of days after Kutner died."

"Jesus Cuddy, that was almost a month ago…" Wilson began angrily, but trailed off in disbelief. "No wonder he's going crazy," he added aloud before he could stop himself.

"More crazy than he usually is?" she questioned sarcastically.

Wilson already felt sweat breaking out on his brow at this possible breach of House's confidence, but the snark in Cuddy's response told him that she had read nothing unusual into his slip of the tongue. His currently harried expression, however, betrayed the sentiment that had gone unnoticed in his words.

"Wait, you mean he's actually upset?" Cuddy inquired softly.

"Of course he's upset!" Wilson practically shouted, finally losing his usual cool. "First, you lie to him about being pregnant. Then when he finally finds out, he outright _asks_ you if the baby is his, and you lie to him _again_! I don't care how difficult of a position you're in with this, you know if there's one thing House can't stand, it's being lied to. It's a huge risk where he's coming from to trust anyone, and I think before this whole mess happened, you were one of the few people he thought he could trust. And you stomped all over that by lying to him about this. _Twice._"

At her friend's harsh words, the Dean of Medicine was left entirely speechless. Wilson's tirade told her that he knew something about her night with House, but it was tough to tell just how many details Wilson was privy to based on what he had just said. Cuddy did her best to keep her expression devoid of emotion, but she had a feeling that wouldn't last long. Still, she continued to fool herself as she prepared to find out just how much her friend knew.

"So what did he tell you, exactly?" Cuddy probed coolly, propping her elbow on her knee and resting her head nonchalantly in the palm of her hand.

"Not much, voluntarily. He admitted that he slept with you when I asked him directly, but he averted every other question I threw at him. Refused to give me any details at all," Wilson stated soberly. At this admission, Cuddy felt somewhat relieved, but Wilson wasn't finished. "And the fact that he wouldn't tell me _anything_ about it tells methat whatever did happen between the two of you was important to him."

Wilson observed Cuddy's body language very carefully as he spoke. She now sat very far forward on the couch, nervously tapping her foot as her bottom lip began to tremble and the tears that she was futilely trying to hold back welled up in her tired eyes. Worried that he may have spoken too harshly, Wilson scooted himself over on the couch until he was close enough to rest a comforting hand on Cuddy's back. She stiffened slightly at the unexpected gesture but didn't push him away.

"I guess it was important to you, too," Wilson said softly. Cuddy sent her friend a cautious sidelong glance, not confirming his assessment, but not denying it, either. She suddenly let out a curt, humorless laugh as she wiped the tears streaming down her face with a sweep of her hand.

"I'm gonna be completely honest, James. I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore," Cuddy confessed helplessly. "At first I thought I had everything figured out. Hey, we slept together. It was bound to happen sooner or later… but we never really talked about it," she said quietly. "Then, we came back to work, my office was still a disaster area from House's exploits during the hostage situation…I moved into his office to torture him, he tortured me back…" But Cuddy trailed off, keeping her next thoughts inside.

Then there had been the desk in her redecorated office. Her desk from college and from medical school that House has arranged to have removed from storage and shipped to Princeton. The same desk on which she had spent many hours studying, both alone and with him. The same desk at which they had both been studying when House had brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face and kissed her so passionately for the first time. The same desk that had sat stoically by the bed in her dorm room where they had first made love. The same desk he had ever so romantically sent to her after they had made love the last time. But House had thrown it all away by retreating to his old habits with the oldest profession in the world.

"And then?" Wilson interrupted her thoughts, thoroughly puzzled, but intrigued by the wistful look on Cuddy's face.

"And then… nothing," she lied. "It was just a few weeks later when I walked into that abandoned crack house and found Rachel, and I just pushed that whole thing with House to the back of my head and focused all my energy on her."

"Until that day in the emergency room when you got a pretty heavy-handed reminder," Wilson added knowingly.

Cuddy smiled weakly and nodded. After this revelation, it was as if some of the weight of the world had lifted from her consistently burdened shoulders, and Cuddy silently acknowledged this by leaning back into her chair and closing her eyes for a moment.

"So you weren't really with anyone besides him?" Wilson clarified delicately.

"No," Cuddy replied in almost a whisper, keeping her eyes closed.

"Then you have to tell him," Wilson stated firmly. "This is not just _your _baby, Lisa. It's his, too. And I think in spite of every lie you've tried to feed him, he believes that's the truth deep down. But he needs to hear it from you. For his sake."

"But he doesn't want a kid… he never has. He would never want that kind of responsibility for another human being," Cuddy argued as she stood up to pace the office. "And I did try to tell him the truth about the baby after Kutner died. He got emotional, we hugged, but it was more than just a hug… I think he was going to kiss me, but then the baby kicked and he was _furious_," Cuddy explained as Wilson listened intently. "I was going to tell him right then and there, but he just pushed me away and refused to listen to anything else I had to say."

"Well, can you blame him?" Wilson asked somewhat harshly. "In his mind, he was probably thinking, 'Here's Cuddy, coming on to me, _again,_ and the baby she's carrying that _she says _belongs to some other guy is socking me in the stomach.' It was just another blow to the gut for him, literally and figuratively. He wouldn't be able to deal with something like that, Lisa. I know it's just easier for you to chalk his reaction up to him being a bastard, but it's deeper than that where he's concerned, and you know it."

From Cuddy's perspective, James Wilson was possibly one of the most annoying people she knew besides Gregory House, and actually for a fairly similar reason; they were both right a maddeningly disproportionate amount of the time.

"The main reason I didn't tell him at first was because I was afraid of how he would react," Cuddy began slowly. "I was sure he'd run for the hills if I just came right out and told him. But from the way he's bent over backwards every step of the way to get the truth out of me…" she hesitated, then asked Wilson, "Do you think he actually wants this baby?"

"Yes, I do," he answered honestly.

"But why?" Cuddy questioned. "That's the part I just can't piece together."

"Really, Lisa? You honestly can't think of a single reason why he would want this baby?" Wilson asked, dumbfounded that Cuddy could be so dense about the issue. But she looked at him square in the eyes and completely seriously shook her head.

"He wants this baby because it's _yours. _It's you and him. And I don't know if he's anywhere close to being able to say it out loud, but I'm pretty sure that he's head-over-heals in love with you. And since that baby is yours, he's going to be head-over-heals in love with it, too."

By this point, Cuddy's tears were flowing freely, but this time around they were more out of happiness than grief. For a long time, Cuddy knew deep down that she loved House, but she was so sure that he could never withstand a serious relationship that she had tried not to get too invested in her feelings for him. Hearing this information from Wilson, however, gave her new hope that coming clean with House might be worth a try.

"Thanks for telling me that," Cuddy told Wilson sincerely. "I want him to be part of this… I was just so scared of his reaction, I really let my fear get the best of me."

"You've been in a tough position, no question," Wilson affirmed. "But now you have a chance to make it right with him, and you can also give him a chance to make things right with you."

"I will," Cuddy stated firmly, giving Wilson a thankful hug. "After I tie up some of these lose ends with my paper work, I'll see if Brenda can keep Rachel awhile longer. Then I'll go up to House's office and talk to him."

"I always know I can count on you to be the adult in the situation," Wilson smiled as he got up from the couch and made his way to the office door. "Actually, if you want, I could take Rachel back to your house in about half and hour and watch her for as long as you need, that way you won't feel like you have to be in a big hurry when you talk to him."

"Thanks James, I would really appreciate that," Cuddy replied sincerely.

"See you in half an hour," Wilson said as he walked back into the clinic.

Cuddy took a minute to compose herself in the comfort of her cushy chair. She really did want to finish up her paper work before she went to talk to House, but her conversation with Wilson had sent her mind reeling in several different directions. The one it was sticking to most prevalently at the moment, though, was the very night that their baby had been conceived. That night had simultaneously been both the best and worst of Cuddy's life, and she couldn't help but allow herself to mentally wander back to it as she pondered her impending conversation with the father of her child.


	18. Chapter 18

****Hello, readers!! I apologize profusely for my very tardy update... I had hoped to have this section of the story much further along by now, but alas, a lot of very serious RL things got in the way, both work-related and personal. But now that things are getting a little more back to "normal" (haha...) I've had some time to write. This commences the flashback section of the story where, as promised, you will find out the origins of the Huddy baby. I would estimate the flashback will take up the next 2 or 3 chapters, depending on how much I have to split up my updates. I am bound and determined to stay at least a chapter ahead from here on out, and so far I'm adhering to that. So, thanks for reading, enjoy, and review, s'il vous plait!! You would seriously make my week right now if you do :-)**

* * *

_Cuddy took a minute to compose herself in the comfort of her cushy chair. She really did want to finish up her paper work before she went to talk to House, but her conversation with Wilson had sent her mind reeling in several different directions. The one it was sticking to most prevalently at the moment, though, was the very night that their baby had been conceived. That night had simultaneously been both the best and worst of Cuddy's life, and she couldn't help but allow herself to mentally wander back to it as she pondered her impending conversation with the father of her child._

_*************************************************************************************************************************************************  
_

Chapter 18

** _Flashback to Tuesday, November 25__th__, 2008.**_

Frantically navigating her way through the last slamming traffic that always seemed to build up on the main roads of Princeton toward the very end of the morning rush hour, Cuddy automatically drove herself to Princeton-Plainsboro as one of the receptionists from the front desk of the hospital relayed to her by cell phone the terrifying invasion of the clinic mere minutes beforehand by an armed patient.

As the receptionist told Cuddy the few details she knew at that moment, Cuddy was mentally kicking herself for not arriving on hospital grounds at her usual time of 8:00am that morning. While she did have a legitimate reason- a breakfast meeting across town with the senior partner of one of Princeton's most prestigious law firms who was considering donating an exceptional sum to the hospital- a couple million dollars seemed suddenly insignificant when she considered that an unknown number of staff and patients alike were currently in mortal danger.

Pulling into her parking space after the longest ten minutes she'd even spent in her car, Cuddy ran as fast as she could in her spiked high heels to the front entrance of the hospital. No matter how emphatic the description given her by the receptionist had been, nothing could have prepared Cuddy for the widespread mayhem that she encountered just as she came through the doors, still clutching her cell phone in her hand. Nurses pushed incapacitated patients towards her on gurneys and in wheelchairs. Able-bodied patients walked or ran past Cuddy as they tried to escape the confusion. Some doctors assisted patients, as well, but others stood around talking in small, hushed groups rather than pitching in.

Several of the hospital's security guards had also found their way to the lobby and were doing their best to direct the congested pedestrian traffic, and quite a few of them stood watch immediately by the outer doors of the clinic. Amongst all of the people, Cuddy noticed that Judy, the reliable receptionist who had called her, was still manning her post and talking to patients that needed assistance to the best of her ability at the moment.

"Judy!" Cuddy yelled over the din as she made her way over to the middle-aged woman with glasses who had been the hospital's head of reception for the last seven years . "Any new information since I hung up with you?"

"Dr. Foreman was one of the doctors that managed to get out of the clinic after the patient pulled the gun, but before he started taking hostages. He's pretty sure the gunman took about six or seven other patients into your office with him, and at least two doctors."

"Which doctors?" Cuddy asked, her brain ticking away trying to remember which doctors she had assigned to Tuesday morning clinic during scheduling the previous week.

"Dr. House and Dr. Hadley," Judy replied matter-of-factly.

Cuddy froze. Oddly enough, her first thought was that she hadn't even scheduled House for clinic duty that morning, but she must have if he was in the clinic. He would certainly have no reason to grace the place with his presence otherwise. A sudden wave of anger ran over Cuddy like a fireball. The _one _time that jerk actually showed up on time for clinic duty… it figured that his haphazard act of punctuality would put him in a life or death situation.

"Has anyone tried calling in there yet?" Cuddy finally asked after she managed to compose her thoughts.

"Not yet, Dr. Cuddy," Judy answered, shaking her head. "When I called 911, they instructed us not to try and make contact. The dispatcher said we should wait for the S.W.A.T. team and allow them to do it," she finished as she turned to reach for yet another one of the many ringing phones at the reception desk.

"Screw the S.W.A.T. team. This is _my _hospital," Cuddy declared with a possessive impatience, reaching for one of the only non-ringing phones and hastily dialing her own office number from memory.

"Crime scene?" House answered offhandedly on the fourth ring. While Thirteen and the nurse that had also been forced into the office were clearly unfazed by House's brash demeanor, both the gunman and the hostages alike appeared to be more than a little confused.

"House!" Cuddy responded, relieved to hear the sound of his voice. "What's going on in there? Is everyone alright?"

"About to be," House replied casually as the armed patient switched the phone onto speaker and placed the receiver back in the cradle. "Assuming he's not lying about his symptoms, but he seems like a pretty straight arrow to me," House added, sending a smart-alecky wink the angry patient's way. "I'm gonna need some propofol to prove it's pulmonary scleroderma," he directed soberly at Cuddy.

"Propofol," Cuddy repeated, somewhat confused. Even for House's typical brand of convoluted reasoning, using a mild form of anesthesia to treat pulmonary scleroderma was pushing it. The brief silence that House used to respond to her statement suddenly clicked into place in Cuddy's mind. House wasn't trying to treat the guy. He was trying to knock him flat on his ass and get everyone out of there safely.

"Have one of the guards bring it in…" House finally began, but he was interrupted by the assailant.

"No guards," the man barked, continuing to point the gun toward House.

"Um, I'll get it," a preppy-looking man in business suit chimed in as he made a dash for the office door.

"And no one's leaving," the gun-toting patient threatened, moving his gun to point it at the now sheepish businessman backing away from the door. The gunman looked around the room hastily, his eyes finally settling on a picture of a smiling Cuddy that looked like it had been taken when she was hiking in the mountains. "She's not a cop," he said to no one in particular. "Dr. Cuddy brings in the drugs. Alone."

Cuddy shuddered at hearing the man's demand but strangely had no qualms as to whether or not she would go through with this dangerous mission of sorts. House was in that office. And if she had the tools to do it, she was going to get him out, personal risks be damned.

"She might be armed," House deadpanned to the assailant, knowing full well that the phone line was still open and that Cuddy could hear his every word. "I'd have her delivered shirtless."

Unfortunately for House, he didn't get to see Cuddy's jaw practically drop all the way down to the reception desk at his comment. She quickly realized she shouldn't be surprised, though. And in a demented sort of way, the fact that House maintained the presence of mind to simultaneously attempt to knock out the gunman, get all of the hostages out of harm's way and make a lewd comment about her body all in one fell swoop helped Cuddy feel more secure in the fact that House had the situation under control. Without a word to anyone else, she swiftly made her way past the security guards standing watch by the outer doors of the clinic and went in search of the drug that, with the luck of House's quick thinking, would bring this whole debacle to an end.


	19. Chapter 19

**** Hello readers!! So, I've managed to do 2 updates within a 1 week period, and I've indeed held to my personal mission of staying at least a chapter ahead of what I'm posting. I promise we're getting to the baby-making in the next couple of chapters... still haven't decided one way or the other about smut, I think I'm just going to see how my muse directs me once I get there :-) As always, thanks for reading, and I'd love beaucoup de reviews, s'il vous plait!! :-D**

_**Flashback continued**_

Cuddy hastily made her way to the secure locked cabinet in the reception area that contained all of the controlled, injectable substances like propofol that were rarely used in day to day clinic cases. Because of the fact that she didn't have use for them very often, it took checking a couple of drawers before she finally came across what she was looking for. Taking the necessary vile, Cuddy slowly approached the outer doors to her own office.

To look at Cuddy's calm, cool, and collected façade, no one would have been the wiser to her nervousness. Gunshots had not been heard thus far, but that didn't necessarily guarantee that all of the hostages were still in a healthy and safe state. Not knowing quite what to expect, she firmly knocked on the door. Almost immediately, House's voice could be heard on the other side of the door.

"Who is it?" he asked unnecessarily as he came into the entranceway and made his way to the outer door. At the mere sight of him, a wave of relief washed over Cuddy's whole body. House was attempting a cavalier expression of bravery, but Cuddy could easily read between the lines of his furrowed brow. They told her two things; he was actually worried, yet intrigued at the same time. It didn't take Cuddy long to look past House into her office, and when she finally did, a horrific sight met her eyes. She saw one of her nurses, Regina, standing in the open crack of the door, the cold steel of a gun barrel resting against her temple.

"Oh God, House…" she began shakily, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe we should wait for the…"

"…guys with the even bigger guns?" House finished her sentence, averting his gaze as he spoke so that he wouldn't have to look into her eyes. Raging gunmen he could do; beautifully worried-looking Cuddy's doe eyes, he could not.

"Who know how to talk to armed…" she rashly pressed, but this time she was cut short by the gunman.

"Say goodbye or I shoot her!" the man said angrily, deliberately jamming the gun into the nurse's temple to further illustrate his point.

House hastily grabbed the propofol out of Cuddy's hand, trying his hardest to ignore the tiny flip that his stomach did when his hand brushed against hers. In that second, their eyes locked in a brief, but significant glance. House took that brief second to wish that he hadn't wasted the numerous opportunities he'd been given in the last couple of weeks to come clean with Cuddy about his feelings. Cuddy turned to walk back to the lobby, wishing equally as hard as House that she hadn't insisted on spending the last few weeks playing such a die-hard game of hard-to-get.

* * *

The next few minutes unfolded far too eventfully for House and rest of the hostages being held in Cuddy's office. Still distrusting House, the patient-turned-assailant insisted that the medication brought in to treat him be tested on one of the other patients before he would agree to be injected with it. True to form, House diagnosed all of the hostage clinic patients at a glance, finally coming to a heavy-set man complaining of migraines to whom the propofol wouldn't pose any kind of a serious health risk.

When the propofol quickly rendered its actual intended use and knocked the man out cold, the enraged gunman didn't waste any time in retaliating and shot the cowardly businessman who had tried to talk his way out of the office only minutes beforehand. The sickly patient immediately informed Princeton-Plainsboro's most brilliant diagnostician that he was not to be screwed with, and House's intuition told him that someone might indeed end up dead if he pulled another stunt like the propofol.

In the moments that followed, the nurse turned her attention to monitoring the condition of the migraine patient who was still unconscious from the slumbering effects of the propofol, while Thirteen concentrated on treating the gunshot victim with the limited resources available in the first aid kit that Cuddy kept on hand in her office. All the while, the phone continued to ring, and House couldn't help but wonder as the assailant alternately ignored the phone and slammed its receiver back down into the cradle whether it was Cuddy or a member of the S.W.A.T. team who would inevitably be attempting to establish communication.

* * *

Cuddy impatiently tapped the pen she was holding on the reception desk as she tried calling her office for what seemed like the millionth time in the last few minutes since they had heard a gunshot. She closed her eyes as she said yet another silent prayer that House had not been the recipient of the bullet but then almost instantly felt guilty. In wishing that House wasn't shot, she almost felt like she _was _wishing that Thirteen, her nurse or one of the patients _had _been shot. The mental tug of war was getting to be more than she could take.

Just as she was pressing the redial button yet again, several members of the Princeton police department and S.W.A.T. team stepped swiftly and purposefully into the lobby. The man Cuddy assumed to be the commanding officer on the scene quickly approached her.

"Lieutenant Beauman, Princeton S.W.A.T." the man introduced himself calmly and professionally.

"Dr. Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine," she responded in kind. "We just heard gunshots but we haven't been able to make contact," Cuddy explained hurriedly.

"We'll handle that," Lt. Beauman assured Cuddy, snapping his fingers to indicate to the other S.W.A.T. team members in which direction they should head. "Once we secure our perimeters and set up our positions."

"By perimeters I assume you mean snipers… we have to put an end to this," Cuddy stated firmly as Lt. Beauman escorted her out of the way of the passing S.W.A.T. team.

"You got a husband in there or a loved one?" the Lieutenant asked, his years of experience in negotiations causing him to sense that Dr. Cuddy had something deeper than mere professional concern for the goings-on in her office.

"No…" she answered almost too quickly, making her best effort at feigning annoyed nonchalance. "No" was an easy answer for the husband part of the question, but loved one? If the time was there, Cuddy could have taken all day explaining her real answer to that part of the question.

"Don't worry, we'll decide when to start shooting," Lt. Beauman asserted confidently.

Cuddy could tell that the officer's demeanor that he knew exactly what he was doing, but it didn't deter the worry eating away at her insides, for patients, employees and possible… loved ones… alike.


	20. Chapter 20

**** Hello, readers!! Two updates within a one week period, can you believe it?! Neither can I... nor can I believe I've held to my "one chapter ahead" rule for 3 chapters in a row! So, Chapter 21 is in the bag, as well, and as far as I know, Chapter 22 will conclude the flashback sequence and bring us back to "present day." Quick episode comment... Lucas, the 2 Minute Man... Oh. My. God. Hardest I have laughed in FOREVER!! Loved "5-9," loved that we had some Huddy back... I think Lucas's days are numbered!!! I would welcome anyone's comments about the episode (as well as the story, obviously!) in reviews. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing, love all you guys :-D**

_**Flashback Continued**_

After Lieutenant Beauman's first attempt at establishing phone contact into the office was disrupted by the gunman's discovery of snipers outside the windows, House had the good fortune to notice a new symptom in his patient during the ordeal. Realizing that the man had recently acquired hearing abilities akin to those of a Golden Retriever, House and Thirteen went back to the proverbial symptom drawing board of Cuddy's wall and continued to assess the role of the new symptom among the existing ones. They didn't have long to discuss them before the phone began to ring yet again.

"Jason, don't hang up the phone again," the Lieutenant cautioned immediately as the patient answered and switched the phone onto speaker.

"You're gonna send in…" the patient began slowly, looking to House to fill in the name of the necessary medication.

"Capsaicin. 200 micrograms," House finished for him firmly.

"And 2 syringes this time," the gunman, now known to be named Jason, added.

"And we'll give you his blood sample and his records," Thirteen piped in.

"No more meds, Jason, and no more deliveries without something in return. You've got to give us a hostage," Beauman declared resolutely.

Jason sighed, finally answering nearly out of breath, "You can have two."

"Great. Then I'll send an officer right in with the transfer…" the Lieutenant began, but the assailant quickly interrupted.

"Everything gets brought in by Dr. Cuddy!" he urged angrily. Had the patient bothered to glance in the direction of his doctor at that moment, he would have seen a definite flash of worry cross the diagnostician's craggy features.

"Jason, I'm not going to let her do that," Beauman responded with almost an irritating measure of calm. At this, House made a grandiose gesture of rolling his eyes and groaning before launching into his own little speech at the officer.

"First, don't use his name so much. It doesn't sound reassuring, it just sounds creepy. And second, _come on_…he's not going to shoot the one person he trusts to bring in his medication. He's gonna shoot hostages if she _doesn't _bring it in!" House finished emphatically.

"I'll get back to you," the Lieutenant said curtly as he hung up the phone and quickly turned to Cuddy. _"_He's demanding that you do all the transfers."

Cuddy didn't even blink. "Ok," she replied automatically, walking past Beauman in a haze.

"Ok?" he repeated, a hint of sarcastic surprise in his voice.

"What am I supposed to say?" she asked, clearly annoyed by Beauman's attitude.

"No, it's not your job," he answered seriously. Cuddy responded by rolling her eyes and sighing, momentarily slipping from her usual professional demeanor and into the impatient instincts of an adolescent. "If you have a conflict of interests, I can't trust you," Beauman added in a somewhat condescending manner.

"Got it. I'm fine," Cuddy stated firmly with her best fake smile, having recovered her confident administrative resolve.

Within the next five minutes, Cuddy found herself pushing a wheelchair across the lobby, retracing her steps across the familiar path that lead to her office. Alone.

* * *

House had gone to stand in the area between the inner and outer doors of Cuddy's office to wait for her, relieved to have an excuse for a few minutes to himself to regroup. No one either in the office or on the other end of the phone would have been the wiser, but the great Greg House, deep down, was actually scared; scared for all of the clinic patients who had been taken hostage, scared for Thirteen and the nurse, Regina, and as much as he hated to admit it, even internally, yes, scared for himself. More than any of those fears, though, was the one for which he felt the most pathetic. House was _terrified _for Cuddy.

Standing there, in this limbo zone between life and death, he realized that when he cut through all the bullshit and got down to his real feelings, he really cared about Cuddy. Maybe even… loved her. It nearly killed his ego to admit it, especially after all of the hinting, meddling, and blatant discussion he had suffered at the hands and mouth of Wilson ever since boss and employee had engaged in a brief yet passionate make-out session in her entranceway after the adoption of Joy had fallen through a few weeks before.

Upon this realization, House felt an unusual sense of primal chivalry overtake his usual instinct to preserve self above all. He had not wanted Cuddy to be the one to bring the propofol into the office the first time; and when the unstable patient had angrily insisted that she make the second delivery, as well, House had wanted nothing more than to punch the guy's lights out. He knew he had to keep his emotions in check, though, if only on the surface. He indeed felt an allegiance to ensuring Cuddy's safety, but not to the extent that it would be at the expense of everyone else in that office if he lost his cool.

But if things were to turn ugly once Cuddy physically became part of the situation, House knew there would be no hesitation on his part. If it came down to it, he would put Cuddy before himself. If it came down to it, he would stare down the barrel of that maniac's gun and accept the consequences if it meant keeping her safe.

As this flood of thoughts ran rampantly through his overworked mind, House finally saw Cuddy's form appear as she walked across the lobby and through the doors of the clinic, pushing a wheelchair, in what almost seemed like slow motion. His heart jumped a little bit more in his chest as their eyes immediately locked, neither one being able to help themselves once they were close enough.

On Cuddy's end of things, her breath nearly caught in her throat when her eyes met House's. Internally, her administrative need to control an uncontrollable situation, her personal desire to protect House, and fear for herself fought an intense three-way dual. Before she had much time to allow the battle to resolve itself, Cuddy was already making her way through the outer doors to her office. House kept his eyes locked with her as he gently tapped the inner doors, signaling Thirteen and the nurse to bring the business guy with the bullet wound and the guy that had been knocked unconscious by the propofol out into the entryway, along with the gunman's blood sample and records.

While Thirteen and the nurse helped the gunshot victim into the wheelchair, House handed off the blood and the files to Cuddy. Their eyes met again for a brief second, and House did his best to put on a brave face for her benefit, one that he hoped told her that she shouldn't worry. But with everything that had transpired between them in the last couple of weeks, it was all Cuddy could do to restrain herself from pulling him into her arms in that very moment and just bearing her soul. She held back, though, as the situation required, and turned to push the wheelchair back toward the lobby and help the recently conscious propofol casualty to walk as best she could.

As House watched Cuddy walk away, he couldn't help but wish he'd handled the last three weeks differently with her. He wasn't necessarily sorry that he'd walked away the night she lost Joy; if he'd allowed things to progress when she was in such a vulnerable state, it wouldn't have ended well for either of them. The next day, on the other hand, could have gone _so _differently if he could have just grown a pair and come clean about his feelings.


	21. Chapter 21

**** Hello, readers!! Sorry for the tardy update, this upcoming week is performance week for me at school... 2 programs in 2 buildings. Oy. Anywho, I'm breaking my own rule... or maybe just bending it rather, to bring you the next chapter. What I have in the bag could TECHNICALLY be split into two chapters right now, though it may not be in the end. So, since it's been over a week at this point, that's good enough for me. For those of you on the Fox Forum, who's sad about the move?? I really hope we don't lose a bunch of posters. Make sure you check out the alternate site that some of the posters have put together... it works pretty similarly, and a lot of members are already doing some chatting over there. As always, thanks for reading, and I'd love my weekly dose of crack via reviews, s'il vous plait!! :-D**

_** Flashback Continued*_

The next few hours passed by in what seemed like an excruciating blur to Cuddy. She stood nervously in the makeshift S.W.A.T. team command center that had been established in the lobby, anxiously awaiting any details that would be relayed to her via Lieutenant Beauman. After captor and negotiator had gone back and forth a few more times on the phone, they reached an agreement for Jason to release a few more hostages in return for escorting the remaining ones with him up to radiology for a CT. House had become convinced that the man had some type of tumor, which would only be visible to them on a scan.

Tied in a circle and forced to walk in a huddled mass to the elevator, the gunman, House, Thirteen, Regina, and the few remaining patient hostages slowly made their way up to the Radiology department on the third floor of the hospital. While House knew that his smart-ass mouth could get them all into a heap of trouble at any given moment, he still couldn't help interjecting a few choice remarks to Jason in the elevator, anyway. House was still House after all; he felt out of his comfort zone being pushing into this unwitting role of Byronic hero for the group.

Adding to his stress was Thirteen's declining physical state, for which they could all thank Jason the Madman. He had repeatedly insisted that all treatments administered to him be given to the ailing doctor first, and each new medication seemed to aggravate her Huntington's worst than the last. While House was doing his best to live up to the Byronic image projected upon him on the outside, all the ramifications of the situation caused House himself to feel like an overwrought elevator in which some idiot had tried to push all of the buttons at the same time, just to see what would happen.

After the captor and captives had settled themselves in the CT room on the 3rd floor, the S.W.A.T. team quickly moved their primary command to the main desk in the radiology department just down the hall. While Beauman patronizingly tried to convince Cuddy to wait it out in the lobby, she would hear none of it. If the S.W.A.T. team was moving upstairs, so was she.

Within half an hour, the whole situation came to a head. House had convinced Jason to give up the gun after his first CT scan was distorted by the starburst created by the metal. When the man's CT came out negative for a tumor, though, House's distorted sense of morality convinced him that giving the gun back was the truly just thing to do. At that point, House knew that in some strange way he was presenting with his own twisted case of Stockholm Syndrome. In the brief time that he had been in Jason's charge, House had become invested in solving his case; not necessarily because he "identified" with his captor, per se, but because of the excitement and rush that come from his puzzle-solving adeptness being the key to safety for so many. Maybe he enjoyed being the Byronic hero on some level, after all.

With the gun back in Jason's hands, the only hostages remaining after House's brief possession of the gun were Thirteen and the overly curious teenage boy who had the misfortune to assume that all was well and safe with the gun out of Jason's hands. While bouncing various diagnoses off of his sick coworker, the puzzle pieces in House's mind began to form a distinctive picture. Melioidosis; it was the only answer that fit.

Jason forced House to leave at that point, leaving only himself and his guinea pig, Thirteen, in the room. Up until that point, Thirteen had taken the medical abuse from her captor willingly because she had come to the decision that living a longer life only to succumb to her disease was pointless. Having been at death's door more than once that day, however, she had begun to reconsider her outlook. As Jason prepared to inject her with the medication for melioidosis, which would almost certainly be fatal to her immediately, Thirteen began pleading for her life. Neither knew that at that moment, the S.W.A.T. team was preparing to blast the door to end the standoff, and just as they did, Jason experienced a moment of trust and injected only himself with the medication.

The blast sent people on both sides of the CT room door flying in different directions, both civilians and S.W.A.T. team members alike. After House managed to regain his footing, he quickly made his way into the CT room to check on Thirteen. Cuddy watched him go back into the room, grateful that he was safe, but silently wishing that he had come to her right after he had been released instead of staying by the room that he had finally been allowed to leave. Quickly realizing that as much as she would have liked it to be different, House could not be her first priority just then. Cuddy walked alone to the elevator after a brief nod of solidarity with Lieutenant Beauman, taking an appropriate administrative post at the main reception desk once she was back amid the chaos of the lobby.

While manning her post, though, Cuddy kept a watchful eye on the elevator for House's eventual descent. She didn't have long to wait; within five minutes, he was limping off the elevator, more slowly than usual, Cuddy noticed, as his cane had been left behind in her office at the insistence of the gunman. She surmised that his leg had probably been aggravated by falling during the blast, as well. Their eyes met as House walked in her direction, and for the first time since very early that morning Cuddy felt like she could take a deep breath.

Unlike their previous encounters that day, House's expression appeared unreadable to her. She watched him expertly dry swallow a couple of vicodin, his eyes searching the rest of the lobby as he did so. Cuddy saw him exchange a glance with Jason, the rouge patient, who had been cuffed and taken into custody by the S.W.A.T. team. House took a deliberately deep breath, pressing on his diaphragm, indicating for Jason to do the same. He did, easily breathing in and then out. Jason smiled a sad satisfied smile, and closed his eyes to enjoy another easy breath. Now, the strangely content look upon House's face was one that Cuddy recognized. He had solved his puzzle. With everything that had happened… patients injured, one doctor almost killed, countless other lives at risk… House still had to know that questions had answers. Problems had solutions. The give and take of the universe had meaning. Noticing that the action was dying down in the lobby and also convinced that she no longer held any of House's attention, Cuddy made her way back to her office to assess the damage.

* * *

Cuddy should have known better than to assume she had lost House's attention simply because he appeared to be focused on Jason. In doing this, she had seriously underestimated his ability to multitask. In truth, he had watched her go all the way back to her office out of the corner of his eye. Moments later, he followed, his baser instincts unable to resist experiencing her reaction to the state of her office firsthand.

When House reached the office, he wasn't surprised to see the bewildered look on Cuddy's face as she surveyed the damage exerted during the hostage crisis. Cuddy's eyes went from the blood spatter on the wall behind her desk that had resulted from the businessman's bullet wound, to a knocked over plant that had spilled dirt all over the floor, to bits of broken glass that were also strewn across the floor from various broken objects. And finally, Cuddy's eyes rested on the blood-red letters that adorned one of her walls, their letters clearly indicating that said wall had served as House's deranged idea of a "white board." House could tell by the annoyed expression on Cuddy's face that he was better off making his presence known sooner rather than later, before she had a chance to become irritated any further.

"Tests confirm melioidosis," he stated matter-of-factly, causing Cuddy to turn toward him. "Easy to miss on the stain," he continued. She simply rolled her eyes and turned around to walk to her desk. _"_Scans and x-rays vary widely…" he began to explain,

"Is that all you care about? Solving your damn puzzle?!" Cuddy asked in disbelief. "A moron storms the clinic… bullies his way into life without parole with you enabling him at every step," she finished angrily as she attempted to put her disheveled desk back into some semblance of order.

"If he hadn't done what he did, he'd be dead," House said simply, as if Jason's actions had been the most logical conclusion in the world. "Good thing you _enabled _my every medical move," he added pointedly to Cuddy. They stared at each other in silence for a brief moment, sizing one another up for what was easily slipping into one of their epic dances around each other.

"You think I handled this differently because you were in here?" Cuddy said annoyed, her tone almost indistinguishable between one of inquiry or statement.

"I don't know… let's try it again without me," House replied with easy sarcasm.

Cuddy sighed heavily, shaking her head. "_This_ is why you and I cant' be a… '_thing_.' " she retaliated, gesturing as she spoke to further illustrate her point. Deep down, it pained her to say that to House, both because she almost felt it to be insensitive and because it seemed to be a sad truth in their screwed up plane of existence with one another.

"If you're suggesting that you screwed up because of a non-relationship with me, I don't know how I can help you," House deadpanned. "Cause the only change you can make from a non-relationship is…" he purposely trailed off, waiting for Cuddy to make her own assumptions as to his meaning. It was yet another of House's deflecting strategies; verbally forcing others to say what he could not.

"You… want a relationship?" Cuddy asked cautiously, hoping that her face didn't betray the extra degree of nervousness that couldn't be derived from the slight crack in her voice.

"Do you?" House threw the spoken curveball of deflection right back in Cuddy's bemused direction.

"Nice try, House," Cuddy answered quickly, throwing her walls back up just as easily as they had crumbled throughout the course of her emotionally trying day. "Just keep calling the 'Make a Wish' foundation. Someone will pick up the phone _eventually_," she added for good measure. "Now, I have a lot of things to check on around here… you know your way out," Cuddy finished, briskly walking past House and out of her office.

Maybe House's feelings should have been hurt just a little, but they weren't. He knew Cuddy; he could read her voice, her body language, and all of her facial expressions like a book. He knew that she had thrown the deflection triple play right back at him from his double. A comeback from Cuddy uttered as quickly as that one was always her emotional force field putting itself into place, blocking all unwanted invaders from penetration. That day had gotten to her; _he _had gotten to her. "Cool," he mused out-loud to himself, smirking. With a purposeful air to his swaggering gate, House left Cuddy's office. He had found a chink in her well-guarded armor, and in the space left by that chink was plenty of room for the plan forming in the diagnostician's brilliant brain to be set into motion.


	22. Update

Hello!

Long time, no "see" readers :-) Sorry to update without really "updating," but I felt like I owed all of you an explanation for such a long hiatus. I'm very sorry that I left all of my readers hanging, but I stopped updating right around the time I found out I was pregnant! I was _really _sick with morning sickness for a whole month, and while at 4 months I'm thankfully no longer sick, I am just too drained to write by the time I get home from work right now. Thankfully, school is out in about 2 weeks, so I will soon be rejoicing with all of my fellow teachers that summer has arrived! I'm hoping to pick up the story again once school is out and my stress level and exhaustion are not constantly robbing my muse of its creative energy. I hope that some of you will still want to read when I start those updates again!

3,

House-Cuddy-Dynamite

P.S.- I haven't seen the show since about 5 episodes before the finale (inexcusable, I know… my choir rehearsals were on Monday night, and the recording situation was neglected by my husband too many weeks in a row), so don't say anything about it if you should happen to comment, pretty please! I do my best to stay spoiler free… well, except I suppose I wouldn't mind knowing if I will end up a happy Huddy or a sad Huddy. But please, no details!


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